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Description

Name: Rickirihkucu
Nickname(s): Rickir, Ricky

True Age: 22

Physical Age: 22

Height: 6'

Hair: Black

Eyes: Brown

Faction: Disciple

While Rickir may be filed as a Disciple, in reality he is indifferent to the whole conflict. He sees pros and cons to each side, but ultimately he is too consumed by his own grief to really care all that much. That being said if either side puts civilians in danger, he will not hesitate to intervene against them. After all he is driven to protect.

Occupation: Janitor/Gladiator-in-training

With a lack of animals to hunt Rickir has found his skill set of little use in Sybal Heim. His animalistic style of fighting has shown promise in one day being on par with other combat-oriented citizens, but with his current level of experienced the best he can manage is lasting a few seconds longer than the average-Joe warrior in a skirmish. He seeks to reach this level of experience one day, and towards that goal he regularly trains in the Ambrotos' Metavoliseum (joined by his sparing partner/mentor Necalli when the minister can spare the time). He occasionally attends the combat classes, but for the most part he trains in solitude.

However training doesn't make an income. What does however is his primary job of cleaning up the Met. While everybody else sleeps in the early dawn hours, Rickir is hard at work cleaning up spilled concessions, doing minor repairs, managing the armory, and mopping up the occasional blood splatter. His work is always impeccable, but most wonder if he sleeps at all. Between cleaning up, training and his Sybal's active nature he never seems to go home, let alone sit down and rest for a moment. It usually takes a comment about his lack of resting (at best) or physically forcing him to return to his apartment (at worst) to get him to so much as consider taking a break.

Sybal Form: The South-East Guardian, The Spirit of Wolf's Road

At first glance, Rickir's Sybal appears to be an 6-foot tall wolf made of solid stardust; frozen billowing forms of mahogany, gold and ocher embedded with with small twinkling points of light. Larger versions of these orbs sit where his eyes would be, with a trail of lights leading down from them to the edge of his face. Upon closer inspection however, one would realize that he is not as solid as he appears. Rickir's Sybal is in fact closer in consistency to a thick cloud of dust, with the core of his chest being fairly turbulent. Small spurts of his substance trail off into the wind on his tail and shoulders.

Despite being made of what can best be described as "space-stuff," Rickir's Sybal seems to have all the normal senses and natural tools of a wolf, with the addition of a few traits. Likely due to his lower density, he can leap incredible distances and can balance himself on effectively anything. His weight is also significantly less than what would be expected. In combat or while traversing the city he commonly uses this to briefly run along vertical surfaces, and if he ever gets tired (which isn't often) it is not uncommon to find him resting on top of a tent or covered market stall without the occupants immediately noticing his presence.

Sybal Power: Element of Cloud

As evident by his composition, Rickir's Sybal is more akin to a gas than a solid. More than that, he seems to have control over exactly how dense his body is. At a moment's notice he can shift his body from being as lose as a stiff breeze to being as thick as skin and bones. In his more gaseous state attacks and weapons will pass right through him, the only effect being a slight warping in his form where he was "struck." He can also pass through non-solid barriers like gates, screens and even the gaps in a door nearly effortlessly, and is completely incapable of being crushed in any fashion (simply reconstituting a short distance away). In his more solid form he can use his fangs and claws like any other wolf, and in general has the same properties as the body of a normal wolf. Some have theorized that he may be able to shift up in density as well, but as it stands he has yet to display such a range.

The one restriction to this power is that he can only assume a single composition over his entire body. This means that he can't walk through barriers while in solid form, and cannot make a physical strike in gas form, though he can usually change density fast enough that this isn't a problem. That being said he can be harmed in his solid state, but instead of bleeding a new spurt of his substance will begin to emit from the wound. In addition, regardless of whatever state he is in water (and specifically water) will cause him to immediately become an incredibly lose density to the point of possibly deforming altogether, which would presumably mean his demise. As such he has an immeasurable aversion to rain and the Ulferlos.

Docile or Feral: Feral

In his Sybal form, Rickir loses access to his higher brain functions, causing him to revert to his most basic drives. The most prominent of these instincts is the instinct to protect, especially women who have been mothers and their children. Presumably by scent detection or previous knowledge of their motherhood, he will spend his nights seeking out mothers and defending them from all threats, real or otherwise. While defending someone Rickir will only back down on the order of his chosen defended and for no other reason. He will fight till he is fatally exhausted, refusing to let anyone who would mean his defended harm approach. That being said, all it takes is one command from the defended and he will become as docile as the average domesticated dog.

When he fails to find someone to protect, Rickir will commonly chase down the odd wild black chicken, not to kill them, but to simply toy with them. If that fails to entertain him he may spend his night running around the perimeter of the city (commonly atop the short city walls). It has been gathered from the snatches of speech he occasionally growls while in Sybal form that he does these things out of "hunter's boredom." This seems congruent with his third idyl tendency to stalk prey animal-like Sybals, a tendency that has caused concern among many. As of yet he has not tried to "finish a hunt," so to speak, but all the same local police keep an eye on him when he does this.

Personality: Selfless, helpful, skilled, unconfident, emotionally reserved

Rickir is an incredibly selfless person. Even after a short time of being in his presence, it become quite evident that he values everyone above himself. Whenever he can he will assist someone in carrying their groceries, help them crossing a street, or even be a stoic shoulder for someone to cry on. He doesn't mind how heavy the load is or how much of his time you take, he's just happy to help...or rather, one would think that he would be. Yet oddly to the contrary he never seems to derive any joy from assisting someone, he just keeps a blank expression and emotionless eyes. That being said he seems genuinely surprised when others return the favor. On top of that, most attempts to get him to share his opinions or personal feelings will end in failure, the only response from him being a mumble or awkward silence. In general he seem to completely distrust his own judgement, suffixing any advice he gives with a shake of his head and a request to disregard it.

The two aspects of himself that Rickir seems to have complete confidence in are his hunting skill and combat prowess, and rightfully so. Despite being so young compared to other Sybal Heim citizens, it is evident he will eventually be an expert in close-quarters combat, and while he hasn't been able to go on a proper hunt since he arrived he has shown considerable tracking and stealth abilities. In situations where these skills are tested he has seemed the most happy, and it is quite evident that he loves pushing his limits in both fields (even if Necalli does consistently beat him in sparing).

When inquired about his past or the nature of his Sybal however, Rickir will become very quiet and cold. It takes a very smooth talker to get him to open up about these subjects, but even then he will share very little. In general when people try to pry into his personal life he will become very reserved. It is quite evident that whatever happened to him, the scars have made it very hard for him to even crack open his heart to others.

History:

NOTE - Rickir's history is NOT KNOWN to anyone in Sybal Heim currently. Please keep this in mind when RPing with him.

Rickir's story begins in the untamed plains of Kansas, in the time when English settlers had begun moving westward and had encountered the Pawnee, Rickir's people. He was born to little fanfare, with his tribe at the time struggling to survive through a particularly harsh winter. When spring finally came though, it became quite evident that Rickir was going to be a hunter. Before he could even walk the babe would attempt to chase down insects and field mice.

As time rolled on and the other kids played games amongst the hills, Rickir followed in his father around begging for more training. By the time his right of passage came Rickir was already on par with most of the men in skill with a bow, and easily felled his first bison. The impressive display earned him his first friend (as well as his official designation as a hunter) in the form of Awikátasa, a fellow hunter novice and the son of the chief's sister. (As a side note the Pawnee determined lineage through women, not men.) The two became inseparable for a number of years, going on small hunts together almost constantly. While on these hunts, Awi made the observation that Rickir "hunted and fought more like an animal than a man." Much to Awi's surprise his partner lit up in delight, taking it as immense compliment. He didn't have the heart to tell his friend that he meant it to be a criticism, not a compliment.

It was also during these hunts that Rickir started to develop skill at killing bears. One year in particular he was tasked with going out and killing a rabid brown bear that had moved into the area and had been scaring off the deer and bison. The young man felt particular up for the job as a few days ago the same bear had ambushed him and Awi, gravely injuring the later. Over the course of a week he tracked down and eventually killed the beast, but on his way back to his tribe a life-changing meeting would occur.

Rickir's hunt had taken him to the far side of his tribe's usual hunting woods, an area that was very rarely scouted due to its lack of prey animals. It was here that he stumbled across something that had not been there before: a log cabin, freshly built from the surrounding forest. In front of the house a colonial girl about his age hung clothes on a line to dry. Until this point Rickir had never seen one of the "White Men." He had heard of them of course when the Pawnee had allied themselves with the settlers, but this was his first real encounter with one of them.

He was breath-taken.

He had always been a determined, ferocious hunter with little though of beauty. But in that instant, he considered her to be the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. He approached cautiously, not attempting to hide himself. At first she was surprised, but quickly an infinitely warm smile spread across her face.

Over the course of two years Rickir would return when he could to the cabin and to the girl. She always seemed pleased (as was he) when he visited, though she hid him from her father and younger sister. She taught him English and what the life of a colonial was like, and he learned that her name was Connie. Her father was Sean Travis Jr., her sister was Jacklyn, and they had traveled from England for her father's work. He in turn taught her his language and told tales about his best hunts, and she learned about the stars and how they moved across the Milky Way. Of course, these visits did not go unnoticed, despite their best efforts. Jacklyn caught them in the barn once and threatened to tell on them, though Connie quickly bribed her with lessened chores.

Awi on the other hand was not so easily dissuaded. He very quickly noticed Rickir's disappearances, and all it took was a backtracking of his friend's steps to find the quickly expanding homestead. (Mr. Travis was apparently a very productive builder.) When he confronted Rickir about it the hunting prodigy begged for Awi to not tell his parents, as he knew they wouldn't approve of him wasting his time with Connie. Reluctantly Awi agreed, on the stipulation that Rickir wouldn't put the girl ahead of the tribe. He was the best hunter in the tribe by this point, and when spring rolled around they would need him for the bison hunts. Without hesitation Rickir agreed, but Awi was still uncertain of his friend's convictions. He had seen how he looked after returning from the girl...

In the last week of winter and the first of spring, multiple events of importance happened in rapid succession for Rickir. The first was the announcement that the Morning Star ritual was to be performed at the end of the week. Rickir however was concerned that he would be unable to attend, as his parents had become stricken with some unknown disease of the White Men. By the third day of the week however, they both had passed away in their sleep. A distraught Rickir went to Connie, his eyes slowly dripping tears. Through the day and into the night she comforted him. Unknown to both of them however Awi watched from the tree line, seething. Instead of coming to him, Rickir had ran into the arms of the White girl. Rickir had shown where his allegiances were now.

The following day Rickir failed to find Awi anywhere, but did stumble into a White Man in a black suit who was looking for the village chief. Rickir pointed him in the right direction and continued looking for Awi. Eventually Rickir gave up, figuring Awi had gone for a hunt on his own, and began his preparations for the night. When Connie came out to the willow tree she and Rickir had been meeting under, she found him with a small spread of various corn and meat dishes (all of them fairly ill-prepared). Rickir had decided to arrange a thank-you picnic for her kindness the day before. Through the day and into the night once more they sat and ate and talked. Eventually, night fell and the stars twinkled above, and Rickir worked up his courage and admitted something to Connie: he was in love with her. Much to his surprise, she kissed him on the cheek and replied that she loved him as well. Grinning like idiots, they kissed again...and again...and again, and soon they found themselves making love under the crystal clear night sky.

Rickir awoke from Connie's embrace with a start, realizing that he was missing the Morning Star ritual. Hastily redressing himself and kissing Connie once more, he rushed back to the village. After grabbing his bow and failing to make his scalplock presentable, he ran to the hill where the ritual was just finishing. All the men had their bows drawn back in preparation to fire into the sacrifice. Rickir placed himself in the back with a solemn-looking Awi, quickly drawing his bow and taking aim, only in freeze in horror.

There on the scaffolding, already dead from earlier in the ritual, was Jacklyn. As the others' arrows flew, one single though rushed through Rickir's head: the sacrifices for the Morning Star ritual only came from enemy tribes. Awi's hand narrowly missed holding back his friend as Rickir sprinted back towards the Travis homestead.

When he arrived Rickir found the house and barn aflame, and on the grassy road Connie and Mr. Travis were tried up and kneeling, awaiting the club of the surrounding three warriors and the chief. In that moment, Rickir felt his hunting instincts turn to something else. Something with a single, solitary purpose: keep her safe. Drawing his knife and donning a feral grimace he charged the warriors, killing one instantly. Mr. Travis saw his chance and made for the treeline, the second of the warriors pursuing him. The third warrior planted his foot on Connie's back to keep her from doing the same, only to find a stone blade planted in his heart. The chief entered the fray, cutting Rickir's arm with the edge of his spear and simultaneously disarming the young man of the knife. With reckless disregard for his life Rickir swatted away the spear and leapt on his leader, strangling him.

When the chief finally stopped twitching, Rickir slowly stood and turned to Connie, who looked on with shock and horror. Without a word, the hunting prodigy slung her across his shoulders and ran. He didn't know where, but he knew that what he had just done was unforgivable. If he was ever seen by his people again, they would kill him. So he ran. He ran until day had once again become night, and the trees had long since been lost on the horizon.

Finding a quite glade to rest, Rickir finally released Connie from her restraints. At first she was unwilling to talk to him, but eventually they discussed what had just occurred. He explained that he only acted so ferociously because she was in danger, and she simply blushed and asked for him to never do it again. They agreed that it was to dangerous to return to the homestead to look for Mr. Travis, but the question remained what they were to do now. They moved across the prairie for a month or so, but soon it became evident that Connie was suited to a more permanent lifestyle. Despite the risk of being discovered, Rickir agreed to find a place for them to build a new home. Eventually he discovered an open plot of ground in Nebraska, and began building a house for them...with lots of trial and error. For six months he tried again and again to build a house from the lumber he traded for in the nearby town (the local lumberjack was a lover of animal pelts), and he eventually succeeded. But despite how rough those months were, Rickir made sure that Connie never experienced hardship. When it would rain, he would shelter her with his own body. When food was scarce, he starved himself to let her eat her fill. Of course it wore on him, put he was determined to never let it show. She realized the sacrifices he made for her regardless, and promised that when they finally had a home, she would pay him back tenfold.

When he had finally finished, a low earth and wood cabin stood in the once barren lot. As Rickir inspected the house and started to think about how he was going to make furniture, Connie led him to the town church where the local pastor was waiting to marry them. Using rings made of willow wood, they were happily wed. For the next five years they lived and loved in that squat cabin. Rickir went out and hunted the local animals, trading the pelts for other goods, and Connie worked in the town as a clerk at a general goods store. It wasn't an easy life, but it was a simple one and they were happy.

Then one day, Connie made an announcement: she was pregnant. Rickir was overjoyed, to the point that he failed to sleep for a number of days. In the months leading to the birth he constantly rushed around, trying to make sure everything was perfect for his baby's arrival...or rather babies. Twins in fact, as the doctor informed them. This news nearly made Rickir forgo sleep altogether, if it weren't for Connie to convince him otherwise.

The pregnancy wasn't an easy one though. Connie suffered incredibly from morning sickness, aches and general nausea. Every week Rickir made a run into town to pick up more painkiller, which cost him a considerable number of pelts. He didn't mind the extra work at all though, he was simply happy he could help Connie and his children by extension. The medicine did its job, and Connie was expecting a mid-April birth according to the doctor.

It was then that Rickir's world shattered.

He rushed into town to pick up the last of the painkiller as well as the doctor. Connie's water had broke. He began crossing the town plaza to the doctor's office, but froze halfway across. Moving about the market were sixteen warriors with all-too familiar markings and weapons. More than that, Rickir recognized their leader: Awi. They were asking around, holding up a sketch of his face. Oblivious to the danger, one of the merchants pointed out Rickir. Awi's eyes met his, and the later immediately knew why they were here after so long. Instead of the friendship he and Awi had shared, Rickir only saw pain and rage. Forgetting the painkiller and the doctor, he ran back down the road. He felt the beast from five years ago stir again. Keep her safe, it roared like a waterfall in his ear...no, not just her. Keep THEM safe.

As the sun fell behind the distant hills, Rickir waited in front of his home. A pair of knives were strapped to his hips, and in his hands he held a bow and arrow at the ready. Through the door he could hear Connie's muffled cries and moans as the labor began in earnest. Rickir did not budge though. No one was going to get anywhere near her or the babies. He would die before anyone so much as touched the rope handle.

The crescent moon glimmered above when the warriors and Awi arrived. As soon as he had a clear shot Rickir lined an arrow up with Awi's chest, warning him to stay away or be killed. Awi signaled the men to stop. He scowled at the long lost prodigy hunter, and then told Rickir the full story of what had happened five years ago. As it had turned out, the White Man in the black suit had been an agent of the American government, and he was spreading the word about a criminal who had escaped to the frontier. He was wanted for multiple accounts of rape and murder. He was know for kidnapping women, forcing them to bear him children, and if she failed to "produce" or the child did not meet his standards he killed the woman and her child if there was one.

His name was Sean Travis Jr., Connie's father.

Connie was one of the children he had kept. What's more he had escaped because of Rickir's actions that night. In addition, with the loss of both their chief and their best hunter the tribe had fallen apart. They simply couldn't sustain themselves or keep command. In time they had all been either killed by disease, captured and sold into slavery by other tribes, or had simply been lost to the elements. The tribe was gone; and it was all Rickir's fault. Now what remained had come to finish what he had started.

From this point, Rickir doesn't remember much. He knows that Awi and the warriors charged, but after that is simply a blur of pain, blood, and frenzied rage. The moment that his memory returns is when he snaps out of this bezerk state, when he realized that he had just buried the severed end of a spear into Awi's stomach. Reeling back in shock, Rickir watched as his former friend stumbled and collapsed over the lip of the hill. They were a few yards from the house now, the path back to it was soaked red and paved with dead men. Rickir himself was splattered with scarlet, with cuts (some more serious than others) and bruises covering his arms and chest. He could feel blood trickling down the back of his head, and the left side of his face had been cut from nose to temple.

The injuries and the carnage barely phased the young man as he dashed back into the house, flinging open the door. He was greeted with deafening silence. He ran to the bedroom, calling for Connie. He revived no response, and he soon learned why.

Lying on the bed were Connie and the twins, dead. They strain of the birth had been too much for them. His mouth agape and tears slowly rolling from his eyes, Rickir fell to his knees, begging any god or spirit who was listening that what he was seeing was an illusion or a trick. Only the quiet murmur of the starting rain replied.

The dawn was a grey one, filled with torrential rainclouds. In the downpour Rickir's tears were lost as he slowly lowered his late love into her freshly dug grave behind the house. To either side the twins lay wrapped in the best cloth Rickir could find, awaiting entrance to their own smaller resting places. As the young hunter sat back on his knees and tried to collect himself, he hear a sliding sound followed by a wet smack. One of the twins had fallen into his grave. Staring at where his son's body had fallen, Rickir felt the animal rear up again in rage. Screaming and sobbing he struck at the air and the house's back wall, hollering at the sky at whatever lived within it. They had taken his tribe, his parents, his friend, his wife and children, and now they wouldn't even let him burry his own child. What more did they wish to take from him? How much more torture did they want him to endure until he finally broke?

As if in reply, a rifle shot pierced his abdomen.

Rickir collapsed to the ground as Mr. Travis revealed himself from behind a nearby tree. He was far more grizzled-looking than when the hunter had last seen him, including an eyepatch over what looked like an infected left eye. He carried two firearms: a rifle which still trickled smoke from its barrel, and a pistol. He kneeled down next to the crumpled Rickir and sneered. "That's what you get for stealing my prize," he whispered menacingly. He then looked at the pistol and dropped it in front of the hunter's face. "This is what you get to make it a little easier on yourself." With that, he walked off as though nothing had even happened.

As his warm blood mixed with his kinsmen's on his shirt, Rickir stared at the pistol. It was was tempting to simply grab it and be done with it all; the pain, the guilt, and maybe he would even get to see Connie again, perhaps even meet his sons...but no, they still needed to be buried. It wouldn't be right if he just left them to rot. So, blood flowing from his chest and pain racking his every movement, he buried them behind that low cabin he had spent so long building. Close to death, he returned to the front of the house, the rain still pouring down. He took a long look at his fallen brethren, placed the pistol's barrel in his mouth, squeezed his still weeping eyes shut, and...stopped.

Something had changed in the air around him. Cracking open an eye, he saw that a forest of broad-leafed trees had impossibly replaced the road back to town. Perhaps it was his blood loss finally taking its toll or something more, but he felt compelled to enter the sudden glade. With shambling steps, he entered into the shelter of the Traveler's Forest.

Extra Info:

> Rickir's nickname of Ricky comes from his assigned aide, Officer Norah "Black Rabbit" Cottontail, who has a habit of giving inexplicably catchy nicknames. As a result most people call him Ricky, but frankly he couldn't care less.

> DO NOT ASK HIM TO COOK. The second Rickir so much as touches a pan whatever's in it burns to a crisp (even water).

> Mostly due to his inability to cook, Rickir has developed one tough gut and one strange appetite. He doesn't care for most baked or fired foods, preferring to eat the base material (i.e. unpeeled spuds instead of mashed potatoes, dough instead of bread, cocoa beans instead of chocolate, etc.). This goes especially for meat, which he almost always eats raw. How on earth he doesn't get food poisoning is anybody's guess.

> Rickir had a particular liking of salt. He never got to taste many (if any) seasonings while he was with his tribe, but when he lived near the town and discovered the simple white crystals he was instantly hooked. Now in Sybal Heim it is not uncommon to see him snacking on a pretzel or other salted snack he got from the Met concession stands.

> Rickir still has the pistol he entered the Forest with. He keeps it in a small wooden lockbox next to his bed, and he always keeps the key on his person. Why he holds onto the useless weapon is unknown.

> Rickir is entirely versed in both his people's cosmology and Lutheran Christianity, but he believes in neither. In general he considers religion of any kind to be absurd. That being said he does believe that spirits/angel and demons exist, but more in that they are simply animals that are far better at concealing themselves than most. As for higher, supernatural powers, he's been reconsidering his disbelieving stance on that subject ever since he first encountered Baselius.

> Sybal Heim is almost a complete sensory overload for Rickir. He grew up in a quiet village, and even then the most he's seen of civilization is a small colonial town. Sybal Heim is the first city he's ever encountered, and the seer amount of things to do and see at any given time is often rather exhausting for him. As such he tends to shy away from the busier parts of the city, preferring quieter places like back-alleys and parks. Consider it a compliment to the tranquility of your garden if you happen to stuble across him relaxing in it.

> Rickir religiously watches any and all combat events that take place in the coliseum, but he doesn't watch from the stands. Instead he positions himself in the upper archways and watches the fighters with binoculars (a welcoming gift from Norah). It's not uncommon to see him practicing moves the combatants used later...albeit he's no master of copying techniques, but it is impressive how much he manages to figure out on his own.

> If requested by his protected, Sybal Rickir can alter his density to an unbelievably soft semi-solid state, perfect for comforting people and getting children to sleep. This state is indicated by a soft, pulsing glow traveling along his body, and it can also indicate him being in a passive or peaceful mood. That's right ladies and gentlemen; he comes with a fluffy mode.

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AUTHOR'S NOTES:

Good LORD this is so long! Kudos to you if you managed to read all the way to here. Even proofreading this thing was ridiculous.
So yeah, this is my charcter for Sybal Heim! Here's hoping I get in! (I had to pick the second most populated district. XP ) As always, please levae any thoughts you have down bellow. Oh! And before I forget, the art for this app was done by the lovely . Go show her some love for making my boy here come to life...do it...NOW! I COMMAND THEE! >8C (lol jk luv u XD ) WD, out!

Description

Name: Rickirihkucu
Nickname(s): Rickir, Ricky

True Age: 22

Physical Age: 22

Height: 6'

Hair: Black

Eyes: Brown

Faction: Disciple

While Rickir may be filed as a Disciple, in reality he is indifferent to the whole conflict. He sees pros and cons to each side, but ultimately he is too consumed by his own grief to really care all that much. That being said if either side puts civilians in danger, he will not hesitate to intervene against them. After all he is driven to protect.

Occupation: Janitor/Gladiator-in-training

With a lack of animals to hunt Rickir has found his skill set of little use in Sybal Heim. His animalistic style of fighting has shown promise in one day being on par with other combat-oriented citizens, but with his current level of experienced the best he can manage is lasting a few seconds longer than the average-Joe warrior in a skirmish. He seeks to reach this level of experience one day, and towards that goal he regularly trains in the Ambrotos' Metavoliseum (joined by his sparing partner/mentor Necalli when the minister can spare the time). He occasionally attends the combat classes, but for the most part he trains in solitude.

However training doesn't make an income. What does however is his primary job of cleaning up the Met. While everybody else sleeps in the early dawn hours, Rickir is hard at work cleaning up spilled concessions, doing minor repairs, managing the armory, and mopping up the occasional blood splatter. His work is always impeccable, but most wonder if he sleeps at all. Between cleaning up, training and his Sybal's active nature he never seems to go home, let alone sit down and rest for a moment. It usually takes a comment about his lack of resting (at best) or physically forcing him to return to his apartment (at worst) to get him to so much as consider taking a break.

Sybal Form: The South-East Guardian, The Spirit of Wolf's Road

At first glance, Rickir's Sybal appears to be an 6-foot tall wolf made of solid stardust; frozen billowing forms of mahogany, gold and ocher embedded with with small twinkling points of light. Larger versions of these orbs sit where his eyes would be, with a trail of lights leading down from them to the edge of his face. Upon closer inspection however, one would realize that he is not as solid as he appears. Rickir's Sybal is in fact closer in consistency to a thick cloud of dust, with the core of his chest being fairly turbulent. Small spurts of his substance trail off into the wind on his tail and shoulders.

Despite being made of what can best be described as "space-stuff," Rickir's Sybal seems to have all the normal senses and natural tools of a wolf, with the addition of a few traits. Likely due to his lower density, he can leap incredible distances and can balance himself on effectively anything. His weight is also significantly less than what would be expected. In combat or while traversing the city he commonly uses this to briefly run along vertical surfaces, and if he ever gets tired (which isn't often) it is not uncommon to find him resting on top of a tent or covered market stall without the occupants immediately noticing his presence.

Sybal Power: Element of Cloud

As evident by his composition, Rickir's Sybal is more akin to a gas than a solid. More than that, he seems to have control over exactly how dense his body is. At a moment's notice he can shift his body from being as lose as a stiff breeze to being as thick as skin and bones. In his more gaseous state attacks and weapons will pass right through him, the only effect being a slight warping in his form where he was "struck." He can also pass through non-solid barriers like gates, screens and even the gaps in a door nearly effortlessly, and is completely incapable of being crushed in any fashion (simply reconstituting a short distance away). In his more solid form he can use his fangs and claws like any other wolf, and in general has the same properties as the body of a normal wolf. Some have theorized that he may be able to shift up in density as well, but as it stands he has yet to display such a range.

The one restriction to this power is that he can only assume a single composition over his entire body. This means that he can't walk through barriers while in solid form, and cannot make a physical strike in gas form, though he can usually change density fast enough that this isn't a problem. That being said he can be harmed in his solid state, but instead of bleeding a new spurt of his substance will begin to emit from the wound. In addition, regardless of whatever state he is in water (and specifically water) will cause him to immediately become an incredibly lose density to the point of possibly deforming altogether, which would presumably mean his demise. As such he has an immeasurable aversion to rain and the Ulferlos.

Docile or Feral: Feral

In his Sybal form, Rickir loses access to his higher brain functions, causing him to revert to his most basic drives. The most prominent of these instincts is the instinct to protect, especially women who have been mothers and their children. Presumably by scent detection or previous knowledge of their motherhood, he will spend his nights seeking out mothers and defending them from all threats, real or otherwise. While defending someone Rickir will only back down on the order of his chosen defended and for no other reason. He will fight till he is fatally exhausted, refusing to let anyone who would mean his defended harm approach. That being said, all it takes is one command from the defended and he will become as docile as the average domesticated dog.

When he fails to find someone to protect, Rickir will commonly chase down the odd wild black chicken, not to kill them, but to simply toy with them. If that fails to entertain him he may spend his night running around the perimeter of the city (commonly atop the short city walls). It has been gathered from the snatches of speech he occasionally growls while in Sybal form that he does these things out of "hunter's boredom." This seems congruent with his third idyl tendency to stalk prey animal-like Sybals, a tendency that has caused concern among many. As of yet he has not tried to "finish a hunt," so to speak, but all the same local police keep an eye on him when he does this.

Personality: Selfless, helpful, skilled, unconfident, emotionally reserved

Rickir is an incredibly selfless person. Even after a short time of being in his presence, it become quite evident that he values everyone above himself. Whenever he can he will assist someone in carrying their groceries, help them crossing a street, or even be a stoic shoulder for someone to cry on. He doesn't mind how heavy the load is or how much of his time you take, he's just happy to help...or rather, one would think that he would be. Yet oddly to the contrary he never seems to derive any joy from assisting someone, he just keeps a blank expression and emotionless eyes. That being said he seems genuinely surprised when others return the favor. On top of that, most attempts to get him to share his opinions or personal feelings will end in failure, the only response from him being a mumble or awkward silence. In general he seem to completely distrust his own judgement, suffixing any advice he gives with a shake of his head and a request to disregard it.

The two aspects of himself that Rickir seems to have complete confidence in are his hunting skill and combat prowess, and rightfully so. Despite being so young compared to other Sybal Heim citizens, it is evident he will eventually be an expert in close-quarters combat, and while he hasn't been able to go on a proper hunt since he arrived he has shown considerable tracking and stealth abilities. In situations where these skills are tested he has seemed the most happy, and it is quite evident that he loves pushing his limits in both fields (even if Necalli does consistently beat him in sparing).

When inquired about his past or the nature of his Sybal however, Rickir will become very quiet and cold. It takes a very smooth talker to get him to open up about these subjects, but even then he will share very little. In general when people try to pry into his personal life he will become very reserved. It is quite evident that whatever happened to him, the scars have made it very hard for him to even crack open his heart to others.

History:

NOTE - Rickir's history is NOT KNOWN to anyone in Sybal Heim currently. Please keep this in mind when RPing with him.

Rickir's story begins in the untamed plains of Kansas, in the time when English settlers had begun moving westward and had encountered the Pawnee, Rickir's people. He was born to little fanfare, with his tribe at the time struggling to survive through a particularly harsh winter. When spring finally came though, it became quite evident that Rickir was going to be a hunter. Before he could even walk the babe would attempt to chase down insects and field mice.

As time rolled on and the other kids played games amongst the hills, Rickir followed in his father around begging for more training. By the time his right of passage came Rickir was already on par with most of the men in skill with a bow, and easily felled his first bison. The impressive display earned him his first friend (as well as his official designation as a hunter) in the form of Awikátasa, a fellow hunter novice and the son of the chief's sister. (As a side note the Pawnee determined lineage through women, not men.) The two became inseparable for a number of years, going on small hunts together almost constantly. While on these hunts, Awi made the observation that Rickir "hunted and fought more like an animal than a man." Much to Awi's surprise his partner lit up in delight, taking it as immense compliment. He didn't have the heart to tell his friend that he meant it to be a criticism, not a compliment.

It was also during these hunts that Rickir started to develop skill at killing bears. One year in particular he was tasked with going out and killing a rabid brown bear that had moved into the area and had been scaring off the deer and bison. The young man felt particular up for the job as a few days ago the same bear had ambushed him and Awi, gravely injuring the later. Over the course of a week he tracked down and eventually killed the beast, but on his way back to his tribe a life-changing meeting would occur.

Rickir's hunt had taken him to the far side of his tribe's usual hunting woods, an area that was very rarely scouted due to its lack of prey animals. It was here that he stumbled across something that had not been there before: a log cabin, freshly built from the surrounding forest. In front of the house a colonial girl about his age hung clothes on a line to dry. Until this point Rickir had never seen one of the "White Men." He had heard of them of course when the Pawnee had allied themselves with the settlers, but this was his first real encounter with one of them.

He was breath-taken.

He had always been a determined, ferocious hunter with little though of beauty. But in that instant, he considered her to be the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. He approached cautiously, not attempting to hide himself. At first she was surprised, but quickly an infinitely warm smile spread across her face.

Over the course of two years Rickir would return when he could to the cabin and to the girl. She always seemed pleased (as was he) when he visited, though she hid him from her father and younger sister. She taught him English and what the life of a colonial was like, and he learned that her name was Connie. Her father was Sean Travis Jr., her sister was Jacklyn, and they had traveled from England for her father's work. He in turn taught her his language and told tales about his best hunts, and she learned about the stars and how they moved across the Milky Way. Of course, these visits did not go unnoticed, despite their best efforts. Jacklyn caught them in the barn once and threatened to tell on them, though Connie quickly bribed her with lessened chores.

Awi on the other hand was not so easily dissuaded. He very quickly noticed Rickir's disappearances, and all it took was a backtracking of his friend's steps to find the quickly expanding homestead. (Mr. Travis was apparently a very productive builder.) When he confronted Rickir about it the hunting prodigy begged for Awi to not tell his parents, as he knew they wouldn't approve of him wasting his time with Connie. Reluctantly Awi agreed, on the stipulation that Rickir wouldn't put the girl ahead of the tribe. He was the best hunter in the tribe by this point, and when spring rolled around they would need him for the bison hunts. Without hesitation Rickir agreed, but Awi was still uncertain of his friend's convictions. He had seen how he looked after returning from the girl...

In the last week of winter and the first of spring, multiple events of importance happened in rapid succession for Rickir. The first was the announcement that the Morning Star ritual was to be performed at the end of the week. Rickir however was concerned that he would be unable to attend, as his parents had become stricken with some unknown disease of the White Men. By the third day of the week however, they both had passed away in their sleep. A distraught Rickir went to Connie, his eyes slowly dripping tears. Through the day and into the night she comforted him. Unknown to both of them however Awi watched from the tree line, seething. Instead of coming to him, Rickir had ran into the arms of the White girl. Rickir had shown where his allegiances were now.

The following day Rickir failed to find Awi anywhere, but did stumble into a White Man in a black suit who was looking for the village chief. Rickir pointed him in the right direction and continued looking for Awi. Eventually Rickir gave up, figuring Awi had gone for a hunt on his own, and began his preparations for the night. When Connie came out to the willow tree she and Rickir had been meeting under, she found him with a small spread of various corn and meat dishes (all of them fairly ill-prepared). Rickir had decided to arrange a thank-you picnic for her kindness the day before. Through the day and into the night once more they sat and ate and talked. Eventually, night fell and the stars twinkled above, and Rickir worked up his courage and admitted something to Connie: he was in love with her. Much to his surprise, she kissed him on the cheek and replied that she loved him as well. Grinning like idiots, they kissed again...and again...and again, and soon they found themselves making love under the crystal clear night sky.

Rickir awoke from Connie's embrace with a start, realizing that he was missing the Morning Star ritual. Hastily redressing himself and kissing Connie once more, he rushed back to the village. After grabbing his bow and failing to make his scalplock presentable, he ran to the hill where the ritual was just finishing. All the men had their bows drawn back in preparation to fire into the sacrifice. Rickir placed himself in the back with a solemn-looking Awi, quickly drawing his bow and taking aim, only in freeze in horror.

There on the scaffolding, already dead from earlier in the ritual, was Jacklyn. As the others' arrows flew, one single though rushed through Rickir's head: the sacrifices for the Morning Star ritual only came from enemy tribes. Awi's hand narrowly missed holding back his friend as Rickir sprinted back towards the Travis homestead.

When he arrived Rickir found the house and barn aflame, and on the grassy road Connie and Mr. Travis were tried up and kneeling, awaiting the club of the surrounding three warriors and the chief. In that moment, Rickir felt his hunting instincts turn to something else. Something with a single, solitary purpose: keep her safe. Drawing his knife and donning a feral grimace he charged the warriors, killing one instantly. Mr. Travis saw his chance and made for the treeline, the second of the warriors pursuing him. The third warrior planted his foot on Connie's back to keep her from doing the same, only to find a stone blade planted in his heart. The chief entered the fray, cutting Rickir's arm with the edge of his spear and simultaneously disarming the young man of the knife. With reckless disregard for his life Rickir swatted away the spear and leapt on his leader, strangling him.

When the chief finally stopped twitching, Rickir slowly stood and turned to Connie, who looked on with shock and horror. Without a word, the hunting prodigy slung her across his shoulders and ran. He didn't know where, but he knew that what he had just done was unforgivable. If he was ever seen by his people again, they would kill him. So he ran. He ran until day had once again become night, and the trees had long since been lost on the horizon.

Finding a quite glade to rest, Rickir finally released Connie from her restraints. At first she was unwilling to talk to him, but eventually they discussed what had just occurred. He explained that he only acted so ferociously because she was in danger, and she simply blushed and asked for him to never do it again. They agreed that it was to dangerous to return to the homestead to look for Mr. Travis, but the question remained what they were to do now. They moved across the prairie for a month or so, but soon it became evident that Connie was suited to a more permanent lifestyle. Despite the risk of being discovered, Rickir agreed to find a place for them to build a new home. Eventually he discovered an open plot of ground in Nebraska, and began building a house for them...with lots of trial and error. For six months he tried again and again to build a house from the lumber he traded for in the nearby town (the local lumberjack was a lover of animal pelts), and he eventually succeeded. But despite how rough those months were, Rickir made sure that Connie never experienced hardship. When it would rain, he would shelter her with his own body. When food was scarce, he starved himself to let her eat her fill. Of course it wore on him, put he was determined to never let it show. She realized the sacrifices he made for her regardless, and promised that when they finally had a home, she would pay him back tenfold.

When he had finally finished, a low earth and wood cabin stood in the once barren lot. As Rickir inspected the house and started to think about how he was going to make furniture, Connie led him to the town church where the local pastor was waiting to marry them. Using rings made of willow wood, they were happily wed. For the next five years they lived and loved in that squat cabin. Rickir went out and hunted the local animals, trading the pelts for other goods, and Connie worked in the town as a clerk at a general goods store. It wasn't an easy life, but it was a simple one and they were happy.

Then one day, Connie made an announcement: she was pregnant. Rickir was overjoyed, to the point that he failed to sleep for a number of days. In the months leading to the birth he constantly rushed around, trying to make sure everything was perfect for his baby's arrival...or rather babies. Twins in fact, as the doctor informed them. This news nearly made Rickir forgo sleep altogether, if it weren't for Connie to convince him otherwise.

The pregnancy wasn't an easy one though. Connie suffered incredibly from morning sickness, aches and general nausea. Every week Rickir made a run into town to pick up more painkiller, which cost him a considerable number of pelts. He didn't mind the extra work at all though, he was simply happy he could help Connie and his children by extension. The medicine did its job, and Connie was expecting a mid-April birth according to the doctor.

It was then that Rickir's world shattered.

He rushed into town to pick up the last of the painkiller as well as the doctor. Connie's water had broke. He began crossing the town plaza to the doctor's office, but froze halfway across. Moving about the market were sixteen warriors with all-too familiar markings and weapons. More than that, Rickir recognized their leader: Awi. They were asking around, holding up a sketch of his face. Oblivious to the danger, one of the merchants pointed out Rickir. Awi's eyes met his, and the later immediately knew why they were here after so long. Instead of the friendship he and Awi had shared, Rickir only saw pain and rage. Forgetting the painkiller and the doctor, he ran back down the road. He felt the beast from five years ago stir again. Keep her safe, it roared like a waterfall in his ear...no, not just her. Keep THEM safe.

As the sun fell behind the distant hills, Rickir waited in front of his home. A pair of knives were strapped to his hips, and in his hands he held a bow and arrow at the ready. Through the door he could hear Connie's muffled cries and moans as the labor began in earnest. Rickir did not budge though. No one was going to get anywhere near her or the babies. He would die before anyone so much as touched the rope handle.

The crescent moon glimmered above when the warriors and Awi arrived. As soon as he had a clear shot Rickir lined an arrow up with Awi's chest, warning him to stay away or be killed. Awi signaled the men to stop. He scowled at the long lost prodigy hunter, and then told Rickir the full story of what had happened five years ago. As it had turned out, the White Man in the black suit had been an agent of the American government, and he was spreading the word about a criminal who had escaped to the frontier. He was wanted for multiple accounts of rape and murder. He was know for kidnapping women, forcing them to bear him children, and if she failed to "produce" or the child did not meet his standards he killed the woman and her child if there was one.

His name was Sean Travis Jr., Connie's father.

Connie was one of the children he had kept. What's more he had escaped because of Rickir's actions that night. In addition, with the loss of both their chief and their best hunter the tribe had fallen apart. They simply couldn't sustain themselves or keep command. In time they had all been either killed by disease, captured and sold into slavery by other tribes, or had simply been lost to the elements. The tribe was gone; and it was all Rickir's fault. Now what remained had come to finish what he had started.

From this point, Rickir doesn't remember much. He knows that Awi and the warriors charged, but after that is simply a blur of pain, blood, and frenzied rage. The moment that his memory returns is when he snaps out of this bezerk state, when he realized that he had just buried the severed end of a spear into Awi's stomach. Reeling back in shock, Rickir watched as his former friend stumbled and collapsed over the lip of the hill. They were a few yards from the house now, the path back to it was soaked red and paved with dead men. Rickir himself was splattered with scarlet, with cuts (some more serious than others) and bruises covering his arms and chest. He could feel blood trickling down the back of his head, and the left side of his face had been cut from nose to temple.

The injuries and the carnage barely phased the young man as he dashed back into the house, flinging open the door. He was greeted with deafening silence. He ran to the bedroom, calling for Connie. He revived no response, and he soon learned why.

Lying on the bed were Connie and the twins, dead. They strain of the birth had been too much for them. His mouth agape and tears slowly rolling from his eyes, Rickir fell to his knees, begging any god or spirit who was listening that what he was seeing was an illusion or a trick. Only the quiet murmur of the starting rain replied.

The dawn was a grey one, filled with torrential rainclouds. In the downpour Rickir's tears were lost as he slowly lowered his late love into her freshly dug grave behind the house. To either side the twins lay wrapped in the best cloth Rickir could find, awaiting entrance to their own smaller resting places. As the young hunter sat back on his knees and tried to collect himself, he hear a sliding sound followed by a wet smack. One of the twins had fallen into his grave. Staring at where his son's body had fallen, Rickir felt the animal rear up again in rage. Screaming and sobbing he struck at the air and the house's back wall, hollering at the sky at whatever lived within it. They had taken his tribe, his parents, his friend, his wife and children, and now they wouldn't even let him burry his own child. What more did they wish to take from him? How much more torture did they want him to endure until he finally broke?

As if in reply, a rifle shot pierced his abdomen.

Rickir collapsed to the ground as Mr. Travis revealed himself from behind a nearby tree. He was far more grizzled-looking than when the hunter had last seen him, including an eyepatch over what looked like an infected left eye. He carried two firearms: a rifle which still trickled smoke from its barrel, and a pistol. He kneeled down next to the crumpled Rickir and sneered. "That's what you get for stealing my prize," he whispered menacingly. He then looked at the pistol and dropped it in front of the hunter's face. "This is what you get to make it a little easier on yourself." With that, he walked off as though nothing had even happened.

As his warm blood mixed with his kinsmen's on his shirt, Rickir stared at the pistol. It was was tempting to simply grab it and be done with it all; the pain, the guilt, and maybe he would even get to see Connie again, perhaps even meet his sons...but no, they still needed to be buried. It wouldn't be right if he just left them to rot. So, blood flowing from his chest and pain racking his every movement, he buried them behind that low cabin he had spent so long building. Close to death, he returned to the front of the house, the rain still pouring down. He took a long look at his fallen brethren, placed the pistol's barrel in his mouth, squeezed his still weeping eyes shut, and...stopped.

Something had changed in the air around him. Cracking open an eye, he saw that a forest of broad-leafed trees had impossibly replaced the road back to town. Perhaps it was his blood loss finally taking its toll or something more, but he felt compelled to enter the sudden glade. With shambling steps, he entered into the shelter of the Traveler's Forest.

Extra Info:

> Rickir's nickname of Ricky comes from his assigned aide, Officer Norah "Black Rabbit" Cottontail, who has a habit of giving inexplicably catchy nicknames. As a result most people call him Ricky, but frankly he couldn't care less.

> DO NOT ASK HIM TO COOK. The second Rickir so much as touches a pan whatever's in it burns to a crisp (even water).

> Mostly due to his inability to cook, Rickir has developed one tough gut and one strange appetite. He doesn't care for most baked or fired foods, preferring to eat the base material (i.e. unpeeled spuds instead of mashed potatoes, dough instead of bread, cocoa beans instead of chocolate, etc.). This goes especially for meat, which he almost always eats raw. How on earth he doesn't get food poisoning is anybody's guess.

> Rickir had a particular liking of salt. He never got to taste many (if any) seasonings while he was with his tribe, but when he lived near the town and discovered the simple white crystals he was instantly hooked. Now in Sybal Heim it is not uncommon to see him snacking on a pretzel or other salted snack he got from the Met concession stands.

> Rickir still has the pistol he entered the Forest with. He keeps it in a small wooden lockbox next to his bed, and he always keeps the key on his person. Why he holds onto the useless weapon is unknown.

> Rickir is entirely versed in both his people's cosmology and Lutheran Christianity, but he believes in neither. In general he considers religion of any kind to be absurd. That being said he does believe that spirits/angel and demons exist, but more in that they are simply animals that are far better at concealing themselves than most. As for higher, supernatural powers, he's been reconsidering his disbelieving stance on that subject ever since he first encountered Baselius.

> Sybal Heim is almost a complete sensory overload for Rickir. He grew up in a quiet village, and even then the most he's seen of civilization is a small colonial town. Sybal Heim is the first city he's ever encountered, and the seer amount of things to do and see at any given time is often rather exhausting for him. As such he tends to shy away from the busier parts of the city, preferring quieter places like back-alleys and parks. Consider it a compliment to the tranquility of your garden if you happen to stuble across him relaxing in it.

> Rickir religiously watches any and all combat events that take place in the coliseum, but he doesn't watch from the stands. Instead he positions himself in the upper archways and watches the fighters with binoculars (a welcoming gift from Norah). It's not uncommon to see him practicing moves the combatants used later...albeit he's no master of copying techniques, but it is impressive how much he manages to figure out on his own.

> If requested by his protected, Sybal Rickir can alter his density to an unbelievably soft semi-solid state, perfect for comforting people and getting children to sleep. This state is indicated by a soft, pulsing glow traveling along his body, and it can also indicate him being in a passive or peaceful mood. That's right ladies and gentlemen; he comes with a fluffy mode.

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AUTHOR'S NOTES:

Good LORD this is so long! Kudos to you if you managed to read all the way to here. Even proofreading this thing was ridiculous.
So yeah, this is my charcter for Sybal Heim! Here's hoping I get in! (I had to pick the second most populated district. XP ) As always, please levae any thoughts you have down bellow. Oh! And before I forget, the art for this app was done by the lovely . Go show her some love for making my boy here come to life...do it...NOW! I COMMAND THEE! >8C (lol jk luv u XD ) WD, out!