Jun. 18th, 2015

morituri_nolumus_mori: (Auxilium!)
PLAYER INFO
Name: Scrib
Contact Information: [plurk.com profile] scribblecloud, [personal profile] scribblecloud
Time Zone: Central
Characters Played: -


CHARACTER INFO
Character Name: Rincewind
Character Canon: Discworld

History: Rincewind the Wizzard

AU History:
Born and raised in Sanctuary, Rincewind could be summarized in one word1: disappointing. Accepted into an academy on the basis that the rest of his family showed Enlightened traits and thus, through the process of osmosis, Rincewind would have a dull glimmer of the same stuff as well, he, like an anchor, sank to the black depths of his class. He is the worst of the magi, just ask anyone. If being Enlightened was the apotheosis of existence then Rincewind somehow managed to dig a hole directly to the bottom. Rincewind is the eighth son of an eighth son. Sure, it looks fancy on paper, however the financial support for his education wasn't there. He became the magi equivalent to a high school drop-out courtesy of an abysmal test score and the absence of any real promise. Rincewind was a magus to no one, but himself2.

After flunking out of class, Rincewind let himself fall by the way-side. He busied himself in the library and worked as an assistant. While the other members of his family were out among the high tresses of society, Rincewind stayed with The Luggage and generally out of the way. In his downtime he poured through book after book on languages and geographies, the first for his enjoyment of dabbling in linguistics, the latter because he has absolutely no interest in visiting them. With Gigas looming over Sanctuary, he'd taken it upon himself to learn how to plead for mercy, scream, and yell for help in several languages. The threat was omni-present. As Rincewind drew into his mid-thirties, tensions spiked between Sanctuary and Gigas. The Resistance was formed.

When his kin ran off to fight Gigas, he joined the not-dying-anytime-soon club. Rincewind hid deeper in the library, drawing around himself a world of dry pages where the greatest threat was either the cutting edge of well-aimed words or the merciless slice of paper on unsuspecting fingertips.

He's only recently emerged from hiding, having heard the lapse of..well...people dying. Screams have a very distinct sound to them, and considering Rincewind had made it a prerogative to understand all the subtle nuances of screaming, he knew the ones he'd been hearing were the third-to-worst kind3.

1. ...Or rather, there are many choice words that may be used, but most serve as synonyms.
2. And maybe The Luggage.
3. The second and first are reserved for those particularly unpleasant, unspeakable sounds one hears in the dead of night, through thick walls and ventilated shafts. They were the kind that weren't meant to be observed, but were anyway by the particularly keen of hearing. Rincewind never asked, but he did read and every magus who called himself a magus (or maggus in Rincewind's case) knew of the experiments. Rincewind had been the only sensible one of his family to leave well enough alone.

A brief and truncated history of "The Luggage".

The Luggage is a travel trunk that has been possessed by a Rotom for as long as anyone can remember. Passed down through the family, The Luggage has finally landed in Rincewind's lap (so to speak) and is an impromptu protector of the youngest, least savy magus. Rincewind has begrudgingly accepted its presence and treats The Luggage as if it were a growlithe with a handful more smarts than you'd expect a trunk to have...and without the burning bits.

Canon Personality:
Rincewind is the epitome of the coward. When even the beginnings of trouble coalesce, Rincewind's already halfway off into the distance. He doesn't care where he runs to, so long as he knows what he's running from. To him, the expert coward knows better than to look back. Looking back meant slower progression and the inevitability of tripping over roots...or logs or even people. Never look back. Cowardice is so ingrained into his psyche that as he's aged, he's developed an entire life philosophy around running away. When escape is not an alternative, Rincewind faces inevitability with a grimace and a half-brick laden sock. He's the kind of individual who faces the end of the world with wild reluctance.

He believes no cause is worth dying for. Why sacrifice the one life you have for a replaceable cause? In fact, much of Rincewind's life is spent analysing his surroundings through a clear, cynical lens. He's keen to spot the motives of others and will be the first to point out any short-comings he spies (providing said pointing-out doesn't bring unwanted attention). Along the same line, he generally pegs a person for what they really are, but holds his tongue because he values his life over making a point. He values his life over a lot of things really.

He doesn't like heights. Well, technically the heights don't bother him...it's the grounds he's scared of. He has reoccurring dreams of falling. If left alone in the wilderness, Rincewind will promptly fail almost every step a survivalist would surely take. He's not attuned to nature and prefers it stay behind a window. Now, human nature he understands. He can reason with a person. He can't reason with a tree4.

Rincewind is convinced that a kind of pre-emptive karma afflicts his life and that any sign of good fortune means he's destined for something much worse. Interesting is bad. Rincewind would rather live a dull, long life than an interesting, truncated version. For all his negativity, in his heart lies a reluctant kindness. He can be good natured to those in need. Indeed, he rescues both a frog and a butterfly in two separate incidents. He's also a pushover when it comes to figures of authority.

"Rincewind is one of those people who gets in the way of his own happiness. If it was raining kisses he'd be the only person with an umbrella."

Oh, and he can't spell for beans. The primary example of his spelling prowess lies poorly embroidered on his hat. What's a wizzard anyhow?

4. Except when he did. He tries not to remind himself because trees can't talk. Neither can rocks unless they're actually trolls.

AU Deviation:
Since the gods don't exist in BNW, they can't meddle with mortal lives. As such, Rincewind's life will have been a little more peaceful. He's less high-strung than his canon self - less convinced that the world is out to get him. With the absence of the Octavo, the eighth spell hasn't imposed itself on his mind meaning his ineptitude with spells will only be that more prevalent. He really is a shoddy maggus. No excuses.

Canon Abilities:
Though he generally can't cast spells (aside from the few times he accidentally does) Rincewind possesses other wizardly abilities such as the capability to see octarine (the color of magic) and perceive Death. In early canon he also had one of the eight great spells from the Octavo, the grimoire of the creator of the universe, lodged in his memory. This spell, when pronounced with the other seven from the book, would save the discworld from imminent destruction. Before it was pronounced, the spells went out of their way to make sure Rincewind didn't die and altered the course of A'Tuin, the great turtle, to swim upside down so when Rincewind fell off the edge of the disc...he fell right back onto it.

Rincewind has a knack for flight (the running away kind). He lives by the philosophy that he extends his life simply by not dying. He who flees will flee again. The wizard also has a knack for identifying when a situation is about to go from bad to worse. He's also a linguist and prides himself on his fluency in several languages.

Lastly, Rincewind owns The Luggage. It's a sapient pearwood chest with hundreds of little pink legs. The interior of the chest is multi-dimensional...it also washes and folds any laundry placed inside. It chooses when it has teeth and a tongue. The Luggage is barely intelligent, is semi-homicidal, and loyally follows its owner anywhere.

Enlightened Abilities:
Normal, Child of Knowledge Unbound. Rincewind's abilities will work more as passives - prolonged effects that continue to affect his everyday life without active concentration. He's not entirely aware that he has abilities...only that he hasn't died yet probably out of sheer, dumb luck.

Level 01 RUN AWAY | Rincewind has a knack for surviving anything thrown at him, typically by running away from it. Cue, "I will survive".
Level 30 FOLLOW ME | Rincewind is a luck sink. Fate smiles on everyone, but him. "Oh no, not again."
Level 55 BATON PASS | "Goodbye"

Rincewind is tragically inept with spells. His first, and most likely only spell is SPLASH. Like most normal-types, his appearance will not alter as he somehow gains levels. He'll also be starting at level 1 despite the allowance to apply at a higher level.

Starter Pokémon:
A Rotom affectionately dubbed The Luggage. Usually left alone to hibernate on top of Rincewind's wardrobe, it inhabits a travel trunk.

Notes/Special Considerations:
I'll be burning Rincewind's first intensive search the minute he's accepted to allow for the Rotom.

SAMPLES
(NOTE: You may link a previous entry or thread, including testrun or musebox threads (but NOT Dear Mun), for one or both samples. However, we want to see the character in the setting of Brave New World and specifically in their AU for at least one sample.)

First-Person:
• To what lengths would you go to rescue your allies if they were lost in the wilderness?
You'd expect me to go in there? I'd just get as lost as them knowing my luck. Better to send the houndours in. They'd know better...

...What? I'm not about to risk my afternoon because someone thought it would be a grand idea to have a close, personal look at nature.

• The gods of old have returned. How would you be judged if you were chosen as a representative of humanity?
Er...before or after I ran from them? Honest question.

• You are alone and bereft of your Pokémon allies; upon what strengths do you rely on to see yourself safely home?
I reckon a good 10-meters head start should do the trick.

• What do you do to ensure we never again awaken the wrath of the gods upon humanity?
Do nothing of course. The minute you go and place a big "Do Not Disturb" sign down, anyone who is everyone is going to want to come and disturb it. It's an unspoken rule of the universe...or something.

Third-Person:
Rincewind stooped for his hat. He picked it up and turned the worn cloth towards him. He ran his fingers along the poorly stitched "MAGGUS" across the front. A declaration of what he was, even if, maybe, no one else believed it themselves. A handful of loose sequins trying to free themselves from the chaotic needlework snagged on his sleeve...Alright, so it wasn't the best hat, but it was his hat. Rincewind jammed the tattered thing over his head and continued on with The Luggage tottering after him.

"You know what's wrong? This whole bloody affair, that's what. People never knowing to leave well enough alone. Well, this is us leaving it alone. We're going very far away where no one's trying to shoot at us, tear us to pieces, or cause grievous, bodily harm upon our persons." He glanced at the lumbering trunk and added, "Well, me anyway. I don't imagine you've got much to fear. What being a piece of furniture and all." The Luggage creaked its lid. "Right, fine. So you're mahogany. All the more reason I should be in front. No one likes a battered chest."
Rincewind woke up. There's a lot that could be said through such a simple statement. Firstly, what knocked him out in the first place? What caused him to, say, fall? Secondly, what was the weight across his midsection? He glanced down. Ah, The Luggage. There's one mystery solved. Rincewind wriggled himself free and stood. He dusted himself off and, while absent-mindedly straightening his robe, chanced a glimpse around himself with an air of mild pensiveness. Really, he was just waiting for the ringing in his ears to stop. It was rather loud inside his head.

A thought broke across the interior rattling of his mind and smothered the cacophony. Where was his hat? This is a very important question because what was a magus without his hat? No, don't answer. A magus is a lot of things and is coincidentally not defined in any way, shape, or form by his hat...but Rincewind wasn't about to give this up to a technicality. If he thought a magus was a man in a funny hat then by the gods he was - a - MAGUS. Where was he? Ah yes, hat. The ratty thing should be around here somewhere. He had a distinct, Luggage shaped impression in his mind that it hadn't flown far.

Rincewind turned. What he saw was a mess. The world had taken a lopsided, dali-esque approach to life only with less of the melty bits and more explosions. What should have been the wall to the outer limits of Sanctuary was a streak of craters and some leftover spikes of cement that stood as testament to the wall that once was. There had been a riot, that much was clear. The air stank of humanity, pokemonstrosity, and gunpowder. There was a tinny taste to the air. Rincewind knew the taste of spells, it perforated all of Sanctuary and complemented the blue lighted bits quite nicely. The dull glint of something golden caught his eye. It was a golden crescent moon dangling from the bent tip of a very ratty and warn head adornment.

Rincewind stooped for his hat. Snatching it up, he turned the worn cloth towards him and ran his fingers along the poorly stitched "MAGGUS" across the front. It was a declaration of what he was, even if, maybe, no one else believed it themselves. A handful of loose sequins trying to free themselves from the chaotic needlework snagged on his sleeve...Alright, so it wasn't the best hat, but it was his hat. Rincewind jammed the tattered thing over his head and gave the Luggage a well-intentioned kick. It stood up.

"Well, c'mon. We can't bloody well stay here. People never knowing to leave well enough alone. I imagine that's what this is all about. Well, this is us leaving it alone. We're going very far away where no one's trying to shoot at us, tear us to pieces, make us explode, or cause grievous, bodily harm upon our persons." He glanced at the tottering trunk and added, "Well, me anyway. I don't imagine you've got much to fear. What being a piece of furniture and all." The Luggage creaked its lid. "Right, fine. So you're mahogany. Can we go now?"

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Rincewind