Miro

[Miro]

From the land of Pattaggounn

Name: asking, it said, Miro

Age: seemingly 55

Race:
Lan Nephura; so, most of this information is copied from their leaflet journals. An all white race that bleeds of sweet nectar and can live off of smell alone; preferring foods. Most are around ten feet tall, not wholly uncommon to see them at fifteen feet; anything lower than eight considered a midget. It is said they are a wholly calm and non hostile people who are nomadic in nature and gather anything they warrant as new. Of handsome demeanors, men and women, though anything written about females are strange glyph like writings, which seems indecipherable.

Proportions:
After a full week of examining the creature, three others came to retrieve the withered raisin like carcass of their dead, ignoring me entirely, not even affording a glance, though barely able to distinguish on account of their white on half white eyes. They stood with wings curled around them, blending upon themselves, like making a larger torso; through medical studies, this supports the notion of a support system for their backs while walking, since their wings are so heavy. Measuring the diameter of their legs and arms, found them both longer than human hands and feet, and broader; tiny suctions can be seen under a scope, probably for climbing, but overall thinner than the moderate man’s hands and feet, still the nose like muscle throughout their whole body. Last note: their reproductive organs protrude from a lower abdomen like men, only fully protected in the abdomen, and during intercourse, so assuming protrudes further out to what extent, a lack of evidence leaves this a mystery. Adding this information into an ever-growing Journal, recording like they often do.

Weight: Two-hundred and fifty-seven; on account of their wings.

Personality:
Witnessing their interactions, have found that their mental capabilities are much the same in respect, oddly having the same morals and habits. Being a rather intriguing curious nature, most cautious, and void of hate, they calmly maneuver themselves about, careful to respect everything around them. Never have there been such quiet, serene species. They are kind of slow though, responding to threats later than usual, possibly because they are on the ground, being a flying creature.

Habitat:
Sneaking into their camp one day, which looked more primitive than most pre human fossils uncovered evidence that they use bark as plates and sometimes eat off the ground itself. A hut like dome created where they remarkably curl into, barely a sizeable fit for a man, and two of them could squeeze into such a hole half dug in the ground, leaves covering the top; to camouflage obviously. Yet to see them urinate. Anyways, inside their small huts that they make from nature found they actually use a fine thin paper like black cloth, writing with some foreign white ink, maybe a combination of blood and mud.

In this evident journal was a discovery that they originate from an island off the coast of Tzalxochitl, a Nomadic Mountain fairing people, who fly in high altitudes and dwell in caves, having a strict feeding and hibernating schedule. Where they would accumulate food for five years and sleep for a whole of one. They prefer dark places to sleep in, contributing to their albino like condition.


Physical Description:
seeing their like many moments in a lifetime, that long egg white hair, gnarled and worn, they would land with monstrous wings of a leathery feather substance, one of their wounded they left behind, to die where he landed, arrow piercing the creatures head, a creamy white bile flowed forth and bending down to drink the stuff, the most delicious taste ever experienced, bitter and tasty! Their wings feel of skin, and there is no breaking point between the shoulders, must’ having extra shoulder muscles to carry such huge, yet thin wings. Now when they are curled though, past and around the waist, tight like a leg clenched in deaths grasp, it creates a protective coat so vital organs aren’t immediately wounded. Rolling back its eyes and found them pure white as well, a small distinction between the milky white eyeball and almost translucent iris. So soft and yet incredibly hard, like touching a nose. The absence of a stench after death leads to believe their blood is nutrition for nature, gobbling it up like plants do the sun.


Possessions: witnessing them only have the parchment papers they carry, and any items they find, well anywhere really, they are like packrats.


Strengths:
Watching fly at great speeds, diving and weaving like graceful bullets in the sky. At one point whitnessing them curl their wings about them and fall headlong toward the ground, breaking at the very most one hands length away from the ground. Sometimes they glide, other times flap. Seemingly unaffected by storms or natural weather, though have seen on rare occasion smaller ones creating makeshift coatings to keep warm.

Their cartilage like bodies actually heal, by no magical means at all but by biological regeneration, knots of muscle can be seen where they have broken anything as small lumps.

Telepathy between themselves at any distance. Not with others.


Weaknesses:
This is where it gets interesting; the creatures cannot stand on soil for too long or their actual bodies degenerate and are overcome by earth itself, withering and dying from loss of that sweet blood.

They are forced to consume minerals as sustenance, one being gold the other silver. If they fail to eat either in a month period, turn a green color and stiffen like wood.

Under no circumstances are they to fly at mid day when the sun is at its highest, or they will ignite and burn alive, with no way to put out the flames.

Have overdeveloped brains, painting them a skewed vivid world before them, colors seem too bright, sensations to the extreme, forcing a stronger faster response to their surroundings. Though they do not act fast, they are too caught up in the moment to foresee how an event will play out.

Have horrible hearing.

When coming in contact with an enigma, as seen the creatures be attacked by magical imbued weapons, a paradox is formed and a mix between magic and anti collide within each other creating a small but powerful energy ball of tantalizing blue purple obsidian colors, first rapidly imploding, then exploding and damaging a radius of one foot in any given direction, the affect have been seen to completely disintegrate a white milky creature, or severely burning them. On the other hand, they may be catapulted, teleported, or lopped in half by the force. At a fity-fity change of anything happening, the force could simply render them unconscious.

[Metarie]

Hiya!

This is a pretty cool idea. I got a little lost in the descriptions, though, because I wasn't sure of who was speaking - the character or an observer of the character.

Would you please replace the fragmented sentences/thoughts with complete ones and the pronouns with proper names, if applicable?

Also, how do you envision a character like this interacting in the setting?

Thanks!

~Ree