Phaloth Arnitel

[Phaloth Arnitel]

Player Name: Water the Fields with Blood

Character Name: Phaloth Arnitel

Nicknames/Sobriquets: Water the Fields with Blood, the Sanguine Prince, the Boneknitter…outside of Marn and Shim, he is known by many names.

Age: 38


Physical Description:

Hair Color: A rich and loamy brown color, like the fresh soil upturned by a gravedigger. Phaloth wears his hair exceptionally short, keeping a crew cut.

Eye Color: Gray, like a dismal fog clinging to a sunless morning. Small, coalescing beads of red and white haunt the perimeter around each pupil. The strange discoloration found around his pupils is a result of overexposure to his disgusting arts.

Skin Tone: Surprisingly, Phaloth’s skin tone is close to an olive complexion.

Build: Not too big and not too small, either. Phaloth is mostly wiry strength, tempered by his fanaticism and his endless spree of murders. A killer has to be in good shape, after all.

Height: 5’8

Weight: 140 lbs.

Phaloth’s choice of attire befits his disturbing personality. Unlike the initiates and clerics that pervade the rest of Anga’s cult, Phaloth wears ceremonial robes that are a shocking orange color rather than a dull crimson. The cuffs of the robe’s oversized sleeves and hemline are a dark navy color, contrasting to the standard cultist’s gold and black embroidery. A blood red teardrop, not unlike the one coined by the Battlemages of Marn, marks the center of the robe’s reverse side. Unlike the symbol of magical authority in Marn, a concentric charcoal-colored spiral underscores the teardrop---a subliminal icon representing sacrifice and piety to his Goddess and only affection. Rather than a conventional sash around his waist, a thick leather belt holds his robes aloft. Various skins are stitched on to the surface of the belt by thin strands of what appears to be leather but is actually in fact sinew and muscle dried out to leathery hardness. These skins are from the hides of human and demi-human beings of varying race, ethnicity, and creed---leftovers from sacrifices of years past. Random bones harvested from his human and demi-human victims hang from this belt like some kind of twisted wind chime, tied by the strands of thicker yet more pliable strands of sinew. A golden multi-pointed crown fit for a modest prince or a poor king rests on top of his head (in truth, it is actually grafted there by his sickening art of Fleshcraft). In a twisted parallel of orthodox faith, an onyx veil drapes down from the brim of the crown and all the way around his head, masking all but the slightest tic of an expression underneath. Sequenced vertically around this veil are columns of children’s teeth, laced into the fabric as if they were garish beads.

Underneath the imposing and nightmare inducing outfit lays a surprising beauty. Phaloth is a handsome, dark-skinned man of Northeastern descent---almost too handsome, in fact. If you look closely, the angles of his face curve delicately to smooth and nearly effeminate perfection. Needless to say, he is like the Morningstar, God’s most beautiful Angel and the most sinister. His eyes are the color of mist clinging to a sunless morning, a haunting gray. Around the pupils of each eye, beads of red and white color pepper his iris (a distinct mark that an occultist of adequate learning could discern as a marker for Bodycraft). His dark brown hair is kept short and to a crew cut (some say it hasn’t grown in years). Though not in peak physical condition, Phaloth is a capable person. His frame is somewhat slight but what is there is toned and conditioned from years of killing.

Possessions:

Aside from the bones that ring around his belt, Phaloth carries nothing else on his person.

Powers or Strengths:

- Fleshcraft: Phaloth is able to manipulate his own flesh without penalty or permanent harm. The resultant alteration to himself can either be permanent or temporary, depending on his whims. Phaloth CANNOT manipulate the flesh of others without performing the Ritual of Recombinant Resurgence beforehand and his intended victim(s) are restrained. Wounds also CANNOT be healed through the use of Fleshcraft, so lacerations and puncture wounds remain regardless.

- Bonecraft: Bonecraft allows Phaloth to manipulate his own skeletal mass without penalty. He is able to form weapons out of his own skeleton and make even more detailed changes to his person. Note that this ability must be used in conjunction with fleshcraft or otherwise the manipulated bones can cause severe damage to his body. As per fleshcraft, Phaloth cannot manipulate the skeletal structure of another person unless the Ritual of Recombinant Resurgence is performed and his victim(s) are restrained. Broken bones can be mended with Bonecraft, but it requires an immense amount of time and concentration (so mending a broken bone in your arm cannot be done in the middle of, say, a swordfight).


- Craft the Dead Skin: The same as fleshcraft, only it can be extended to corpses without ritual. Note that this ability does not work on vampires.

- Craft the Dead Bone: The same as bonecraft, only it can be extended to corpses without ritual. Note that this ability does not work on vampires.

- Create Amalgam (Chimera): With the Ritual of Recombinant Resurgence and sufficient cannon fodder, the Bodycrafter can create unimaginable horrors out of the still-living bodies of his victims. These monstrosities can range anywhere in size, from a tiny little rat (scathe inches) to something as large as a bear (anywhere from 12-13 feet tall). Anything that is organic and living is eligible; undead amalgams cannot be made through this ability, because they lack the spark of life needed for a Crafter to fuse the flesh.

Crosses between animal and humans are possible through amalgamation, as is partial fusion. Whether one side is in control of the whole amalgamation or not is left to the whims of the Crafter; if divvied up evenly, it is possible for an internecine struggle for control of the fused body to happen (this is especially devious when employed on human-human crosses and a suitable punishment for those fused with a rabid animal).

Amalgams are not instantly under the control of the Crafter when they are finished. Like any animal, they must be domesticated and trained. The amalgams with some semblance of human intelligence learn to fear the Crafter quickly, as amalgams are prone to the Curse of Malleability. Unless cured by magical means, an individual (or individuals, in the case of amalgams) that has undergone the Ritual of Recombinant Resurgence is wholly subject to the Crafter’s body-warping abilities without the need of another ritual. He may shape the amalgam’s flesh and bone as easily as if it were his own. Even other Crafters may use their abilities on the amalgam, as if they too had performed the ritual on them. After all, creation may be individualized…but genius must be shared.

- Phaloth is a capable fighter. Being raised in a cult of violent, wanton individuals coupled with his own fervent dedication to his Goddess has shaped him into a skilled “saint” for his patron. While not a martial artist, he knows how to kill people and kill them efficiently. As such, he fights with as little fanfare as possible and only strikes with the intent to maim or kill.

- Phaloth’s will is intractable. There is very little that can dissuade him from his intent, whatever it may be.

- Because of his various connections with the cult, Phaloth is access to lore that others (such as the citizenry of Marn and Shim) are not privy to.

- Obviously, he has a Goddess and her followers to help him.


Magic:

Ritual of Recombinant Resurgence: One of the most frightening aspects of Bodycrafting is not the actual change that the practitioner can inflict upon himself, but rather the unnatural change that he can inflict on others as well. The Ritual of Recombinant Resurgence enables the Crafter to perform fleshcraft and bonecraft on others and also create amalgams.

In order to enact the ritual, the Crafter must grind a small pile of bones into a fine powder. While the caster is doing this, he begins an ominous dirge that continues throughout the whole ritual. He then collects an ounce of the victim’s (or victims’) blood and dumps it in to the bowl, the chant undulating and reaching a fevered pitch. When that is finished, the Crafter then applies his own blood to the concoction and then begins mixing it around until all of the blood in the bowl is thoroughly soaked in the powdered bone. He then dips both hands into the bowl and rubs the blood-soaked mixture into his skin. At this point, the dirge’s crescendo recedes and becomes a soft climax. As the chanting ends, the anointed mixture sinks into his pores with a flicker of arcane light that is as dark as ebony, signifying the completion of the ritual.

The whole ritual takes about a half hour (or more, depending on the amount of people involved) to perform. Note that the Crafter cannot perform his work while the victim is not bound in some fashion. If they are unbound before the Crafter lays her hands on them, the Ritual will have no effect.




Blood Bond: Blood is a sacred, primal connection that ties everything together. Even those whose forms are static and unchanging are cognizant of this fact, even on an instinctual level. Blood is a measure of family, of purity, and most importantly, of life. To the Crafter, however, blood is all of those things and something even more. Blood is at the heart of their art, the foundation on which everything rests. It empowers their rituals and their spells. It ensures that their power endures and is passed on to the next worthy heir. As a result, a Crafter’s blood is selfishly hoarded. However, a Bodycrafter that chooses to share his blood with someone else doesn’t just give it out to anybody. Indeed, sharing even a drop of his blood is a sign of inestimable trust and intimacy that is the equivalent of equality in the eyes of the Crafter.

The Blood Bond is a means of communicating this level of equality and intimacy with another person, be it another practitioner of the Craft or another soul whom the Crafter acknowledges as an equal. At least three people must be present for the ritual: The Ritemaster (who acts as an arbiter and enacts the ritual) and the pair of individuals that wish to be bonded. However, as many thirteen people (twelve plus the Ritemaster) can participate in one rite. The Ritemaster begins the ritual by slicing the wrists of the participants with a bladed bone, creating a shallow cut that is deep enough to bleed but not deep enough to cause a scar. The Ritemaster then sticks the bloodied bone into a fire when the task is completed and asks for all involved to share their blood with one another. The participants press their wrists together and allow their blood to seep into one another’s wounds (in a group rite, this is done in succession until all involved have interacted with each other). The Ritemaster then begins to hum quietly and takes the bone used to cut each participant’s wrist out of the fire. Sanctifying the bone with his own blood so that he can mark himself as party to the pact made, he then passes the bone on to the participants and asks them to finalize the pact by sealing their bondsmate’s blood inside of them. Pressing the red-hot bone against the wound, they cauterize it shut. Regardless of race or creed, the resultant scar from the branding will always take the shape of a concentric spiral with a elevated piece of red flesh that is in the shape of a teardrop. The scar is permanent and cannot be removed unless it is excised by the Ritemaster who initiated the Blood Bond. However, the scar can be concealed by magic or by fleshcraft.

The Blood Bond confers a number of benefits to those that are bonded. By placing two fingers on (or above) the mark, the bonded individual can sense the general direction of the person (or people, if it was a group ceremony) to whom he is bonded to. It also allows insight into the bondsmate’s well-being physically and what they are feeling.

Weaknesses:

- If one of Phaloth’s greatest strengths is his intractable will, then one of his greatest weaknesses is his short-sightedness. Though cunning, he tends to lose track of the bigger picture.

- Though he leads the Cult as its head priest, his dedication to the Goddess is thoroughly alienating at times. In his quest to cultivate the perfect vessel for Her, he has ensured that other members of the sect are set up for failure. He purposely divvies up the members into separate “workshops” (which are blood bound amongst themselves and Phaloth only and no other workshop) dedicated to the task of creating a vessel for Angadot and permits little in the way of cross-communication. This way, he can be the one to create the “perfect vessel” for his Goddess and ultimately gain her favor. This lack of cohesion spreads some of the resources of the cult thin as a result, but Phaloth makes sure that at least a small coterie of individuals is with him at all times.

- Despite his abilities, he is still as mortal as they come.

- If the citizens of Marn or Shim have open ears, they would know that Phaloth has a reputation in the distant lands.



- He lacks training in conventional magic. Phaloth is exclusively trained in the arts pertaining to his craft and very little else. If pitted against a conventional sorcerer, he would be unable to defend himself well metaphysically (i.e. use counterspells, force fields, and the like).



History:

A Brief History of Bodycrafting:

Bodycrafting is somewhere between a science and a mystical practice, not unlike alchemy. Its followers are fascinated by the innate malleability of the body through the Craft and are constantly finding ways to reinvent themselves or others.

The roots of this practice can be traced back the various pagan rituals that populate all of Pal Tahrenor. It was not unheard of for some backwater tribes to push their bodies beyond its ascribed limits or do some strange thing that alters their appearance. Long, ritualistic affairs were made out of things such as a scarification, piercings, brands, and tattooing as to mark some sort of favor from the gods or to mark some sort of prodigious accomplishment. For some tribes, these alterations were a sign of status and privilege; the more markings they bore, the more esteem that they were lauded. Their inherent dynamism separated them from the rest of the pack and made them special.

Approximately two hundred years ago, in the Northwestern mountain regions of Pal Tahrenor, a man (whose name is unknown to the annals of history) was exiled from his people. He was a doctor of considerable renown in the region, who concocted a host of miracles through his various applications of magic and medical science. He was absolutely fascinated with the way that the body worked, constantly performing experiments in which to further his knowledge and, he supposed, for the betterment of everyone else. Unfortunately, his experiments endangered too many people and killed that many more by accident. The people of his town saw his deeds not as innately evil but definitely not safe. Many attempts were made to dissuade the doctor from his dangerous experiments, all of which started passively at first and through a threshold of patience. When the doctor refused each time, however, their patience wore thin. Rather than carry out a death sentence, they forcibly ejected the doctor from the city and threatened him with death if he ever returned.

Frustrated that his good works were deemed untrustworthy (they couldn’t possibly understand the risks of discovery, after all. Sacrifices must be made), he accepted his exile begrudgingly and moved away from the city with only the clothes on his back. Down and out without a trace of civilization for the next several hundred miles, the doctor pushed southward and did what he could to survive off of the land. He did well for the first few weeks, due to his capacity for magic and his rudimentary knowledge of surviving in nature. However, winter was beginning to settle in and winter in the mountains is anything but forgiving. Soon, Mother Nature slammed the region with a hellacious snowstorm. The doctor was helpless against the icy onslaught and it seemed as if he were going to die alone, all for the sake of his failed attempts to help others.

As luck would have it, an indigenous and nomadic group of people were passing through the area. They were a tribe of hunter-gatherers that (thankfully) had a charitable streak and bartered occasionally with outsiders. They rescued the doctor and brought him to their temporary encampment in the mountains. When the doctor recovered, he sought to leave straightaway, thinking that these people were going to kill him for some strange reason. However, after much careful consideration, he discovered that these people were far from menacing. To reciprocate his newfound appreciation for these people, he expressed his gratitude by helping the sick and the infirm that were beyond the help of their tribe. The hunter-gatherers were in awe of the doctor’s healing prowess and his magic; they regarded him in whispered tones of reverence and proclaimed him as a dignitary of the spirits of the land. The deed that probably solidified his status in their eyes was when he helped give birth to one of the patriarch’s child. After that, he was made an honorary member of the tribe and allowed to stay. At first the doctor hesitated when presented with the offer, but seeing as how he had nowhere else to go, he decided to stay with them.

The various rituals that they used to distinguish themselves and their accomplishments fascinated the doctor. His initiation into the tribe itself involved a ritualistic “gauging” of his ear and other commonly pierced appendages (stomach, lip, etc). This practice, as the animistic hunter-gatherers explained, is a means to help channel the spirits of the land through their flesh by giving them conduits to do so. When someone does something immensely beneficial to the tribe or even heroic, the gauges are increased in size and even larger pieces of jewelry or valuable ore (like iron spikes) is put there. As a result, some of the most highly decorated members of their tribe were latticed with piercings and distended bits of flesh. What they would with the leftover flesh is intriguing; sometimes, they would make elaborate knotwork out of them or even slice them off to make skin-based accessories like pouches. The most intriguing thing of all was their method. It was flawless and without fail. Very few people succumbed to infection.

Intensely curious of this bizarre condition and rendering of flesh, the doctor began experimenting on himself with his magic and his knowledge of the human body. Soon his studies advanced so far along that he was able to manipulate his flesh as easily as if it were clay. At first, he made small temporary changes to his features to see if his fellow tribesman would notice. Most of them did and they were innocuously drawn to the phenomenon by sheer curiousness and awe. In slow increments, he made more dramatic alterations to himself. The reaction from his peers was somewhere between revulsion and awe, but they were very accepting of his newfound prowess. It was a gift, they said, from the spirits of the land. As he healed the flesh of those that were sick, they reasoned, it would also give him the power to change and shape the flesh. However, they soon discovered that he could not perform this feat on anyone else but himself. The doctor then proceeded to teach those that were capable of learning of his newfound art of “fleshcraft.” As he instructed his newfound pupils, he discovered that most could not learn fleshcraft even if they tried their hardest. They simply lacked the potential to do so. He then decided to take his studies a step further and go beyond the flesh and to the stuff that anchors it: The bone. It was during this time that he discovered the immature Ritual of Recombinant Resurgence. By blending their pagan practices of using the bones of their fallen and his knowledge of magic and the body, he was able to devise a ritual in which he could change others.

From the earlier version of the Ritual, the doctor soon discovered a more dramatic means of alteration that he dubbed as bonecraft. With bonecraft, truly drastic alterations could be made to their bodies. They could produce tools from their own bones and from the ones of others. By this point, however, dabbling so much in the newly discovered art’s magicks had darkened the intent of the doctor and those that followed him. The taint was small at first, beginning with a gradual phasing out of the tribe’s own animistic faith. An air of transcendence swept through the tribe, fueled by the doctor’s now-mad ravings of “self-godhood” through alteration of the body. Those who disagreed were either killed outright or assimilated into the various experiments that resulted in the first amalgams.

Soon the self-proclaimed “Bodycrafters” stretched their influence across other impressionable tribes or communities. Most fell to the depredations of the Bodycrafters, becoming either cannon fodder for their twisted experiments or amalgam-slaves. They became insistent on breeding only with those individuals that have an inkling of potential to practice the craft (that is, anyone with magical potential). As a result, inbreeding occurred as well as various raids on villages to steal away male and female demi-humans or those with magical potential. After a hundred years or so, the founder of the Craft died…but the other individuals carry it on, even to this day.

Today, no more than a dozen tribes of Bodycrafters exist across Pal Tahrenor and most of them are concentrated to the North. Due to the founder’s strange ravings and philosophy of individuality, each and every single one is different. Some are insanely violent and actively pursue the expansion of their number through rapine and raiding. These violent tribes also collect hapless souls for experimentation and the creation of more amalgam-slaves. Other tribes are less inhumane and focus solely on themselves, attacking and assimilating only those that trespass into their territory.


Character History:

In order to accurately speak of Phaloth’s beginnings, we must speak of the unholy bargain that was struck years before.

In PW 167, the Culto Sangresa traveled far away from the land of their origin, seeking potential converts to the ways of their Goddess. During their sabbatical along the northern mountain ranges, they discovered a radical sect of individuals who called themselves “Bodycrafters.” These malign souls did not meet the traveling cultists with open arms and pleasant greetings. Indeed, the Bodycrafters set themselves upon the Culto Sangresa in violence and captured their whole caravan. They were soon spirited away to the home of the Bodycrafters, where all manner of torture awaited them.

Many of the Cult’s itinerants perished at the hands of the Bodycrafter’s quasi-religious ceremonies of warping flesh and bone. Rather than being completely appalled by the proceedings, however, the Culto Sangresa underwent a sort of sickening epiphany. These individuals were not wholly unlike them and they shared the same reverence of sacrifice and blood-letting. The more savvy members of the Cult managed to halt the proceedings by explaining (at least to those that could speak their language) that they were not that much different. The Bodycrafters were intrigued by what the Cult had illustrated and spared the rest of their number. Any individual (or group of individuals) that appealed to the Bodycrafters in manner of similarity are spared from the brunt of their wrath, either to be assimilated into the group or let go. The Cult wanted the Bodycrafters to be apart of their grand and glorious reverence of the Goddess of Slaughter, Angadat.

After much discussion and sharing of their unique cultures, the one thing that the Bodycrafters could not bring themselves to agree with the Culto Sangresa on was the acknowledgment of one glorious deity. A Bodycrafter’s faith and belief was heavily steeped in themselves and their Craft. Very little else mattered to a Crafter. Without tangible proof of gods, they reasoned, they were gods unto themselves and thus had no need for such an intangible precept. Until they saw incontrovertible proof of a god, they would only believe in themselves. The Cult was determined, however. They saw the potential in the Bodycrafter’s abilities. With their talents, they could one day bring their Goddess into the world by creating the penultimate vessel to house her essence in. They knew that they would be hard-pressed to convince, however. While pagan and somewhat crude, the Bodycrafters were far from inane. No doubt that something more than some magical ruse would be needed to bring them into the fold.

After much deliberation among their own number, the Culto Sangresa decided that their only option was to somehow make the Bodycrafters see the glory of Angadat for themselves. The problem was that they haven’t seen anything out of their Goddess in decades. The last time she was seen was during one of their Grand Moots, a holy event that happens every half a century. She wasn’t due to return for another twenty years. However, even she must see the potential that this tribe has for her grand design. Going out on a limb, the Culto Sangresa utilized the ritual used at the Grant Moot thirty years ago, one that involved the sacrifice of seven people and the drinking of their heart’s blood (one of the sacrifices, it must be noted, was pulled from their own number). During the course of seven days, seven individuals had their hearts removed and the blood drained from their bodies into chalices in which the Bodycrafters would imbibe the blood of the fallen.

On the seventh day and the seventh sacrifice, an explosion of “holy” vision and insight was visited upon the Bodycrafter’s number. A divine vision of a wan woman anointed in a crown of throwns was visited upon them. Each Bodycrafter was kissed on his or her brow, told that they had done her a great service in spite of being ignorant of her existence for so long. They immediately threw their lot in with the Culto Sangresa, pledging unyielding fealty to their ways. It seemed that the Culto Sangresa’s bid paid off and that they had gained valuable allies and theological equals. Of course, accepting them as “theological equals” was mostly lip service. It would turn out that, for many years, the Bodycrafters that they had assimilated into the Cult would be thrown to the wayside and have their now-zealous faith exploited.

That all changed, however, when Phaloth Arnitel was brought into the world seven years later.

His birth wasn’t exactly auspicious. He was born of a derelict whore collected from a Bodycrafter-incited raid on a local town and a Bodycrafting magus of the Culto Sangresa. Even the life that he led wasn’t considered special, one that was rife with blood and sacrifice. It was his first encounter with his Goddess that truly marked him for greatness. During the orgiastic affair of the Grand Moot, Phaloth was singled out from the rest of the Culto Sangresa and bestowed with a kiss to the forehead. In his blood, she marked him with visions of grandeur and greatness. Phaloth’s being was shaken to the very core by these visions and changed the whole scope of his existence.

Some time after the Moot, it became quite clear that the Goddess’s blessings were absolute. He displayed an uncanny talent for Bodycrafting that surpassed even the eldest members of that sect, mastering the art of creating amalgams at the age of twenty (when it usually takes most Bodycrafters most of their lives to perfect it). It only took him a few years to ascend to the highest position of his cult (much to the chagrin of some) and he has been ruling it with an iron hand up until the present.