“If I seem to be hazy on the details, I can only say this story begins before my time. Before the elders of the Onyx Castle’s time. Even before the Ashen Oak began to sprout leaves. This was my world, it’s name lost to our history as centuries of conflict warped it into The Demonic Front.”
My world was mother to a bountiful land, all across which were Sun Oak trees so massive they could provide shade for miles, stretching into the heavens and further. The first users of magic had said the oaks were bonded with the magic of the world itself, allowing those who lived under them to be coated in its cascading pollen that brimmed with magic. The oaks were places of power, places of study, and places of dark secrets. For as the roots of my people were put down, so too did seeds of evil.
You see while we lived a bountiful existence, many of us had short life spans. Where this genetic trait began, few knew, but it was accepted that our civilization would live on, even if a single life would not. But you could imagine how this would be an unsatisfactory philosophy for some. As you are already aware, heartless are born from the fall of hearts into darkness. It was theorized by our magicians that the heart could connect to any living creature, including the Sun Oaks we built our lives around. If we could become like the trees, eternal and connected to the magic of the world ourselves, our society would be a utopia. Yet we were innocent to the horrors that slept beneath the land as we began their ritual.
As the collection of many cities under this splinter cells direction gathered under a white sun oak tree, they began the dive. Multiple cities of humans, all calling out to the heart of the towering pillar, hoping to be part of its life force. But, as we all eventually learn, human hearts are imperfect little things. Darkness, tiny inklings that existed in every heart, called to each other and the mass of unformed heartless corrupted and twisted the people and Ashen Oak. Here was the site of our worlds greatest disaster, as the corruptive force spread out and began a path of desolation across my world. Over the course of 400 years, various factions fought against the encroaching darkness that came for each of their societies. Honorable knights, brilliant wizards, armies of many powerful lords. All befell the writhing mass of shadows and corrupted nature, and were lost to time.
To prepare the rest of my people still living, the elders of the remaining regions retreated to an untouched bastion, the Onyx Castle. A massive black stone city that held strong against the corruption of the land, in its center a towering oak that rained black leaves for miles. Here I and my companions were recruited to fight for the demonic front, we were also the first to be bestowed a new magic. We were to be keyblade wielders, to destroy put our lives on the line fighting off waves of shadows. I was only 10 when I was first given It, I called It Razor Vine, a silly name but a child couldn’t conceive of the responsibility on their shoulders, so I made believe we were adventurers. It was like that for some time, a series of battles to break through the line of heartless and destroy the Ashen Oak.
I reached the mark of mastery upon my 20th birthday, I rescued several young keyblade users from a collapsing darkside. I was in a group of only 10 keyblade masters, denoted by a letter, I was called Q. I was patrolling on the rim of the city, many of the massive walls originally there were now rubble. The Onyx Castle had shrunk dramatically in 12 years, now mainly populated in a cramped circle that could fit 2000 people, trying to fit 10000. Small pockets of societies managed to survive by moving around but they never made it above 20 a group. We were the last ten thousand humans left on this world, and our future was bleak. Yet through all this, those of us in the Onyx Guard never despaired, the feeling of holding a keyblade never gave way to despair.
I went around the rim of the city, breaking several groups of shadows apart with a couple swings of Razor Vine. New candidates for keyblade wielders was becoming dramatically thinner. I was meeting two other masters to discuss a method of rallying more civilians to bolster the numbers on the battlefield, but I saw the fear in those young keyblade wielders eyes. No one is volunteering for this life. As I reached the collapsed building that was once a magic academy, the silence in the air broke. The ground I was running on turnt to dust beneath me as a writhing mass swirled below.
I quickly used Aero magic to propel myself over the mass towards the buildings windows, the mass was visible to the sunlight. Roots, gray roots forming golem like creatures of towering height dissolved the ground it burst from, yet the horror was in their faces. Deep recesses of empty blackness, as you stared they seemed infinite and chilling. The creatures crawled from the depths as their crumbling bark breaks off and reforms that seemed to choke the air. I began a direct attack while fighting back the fear these creatures radiated. 4 of them, barely acknowledging my existence, began to shoot its arm’s branches into various buildings. I leaped atop one and charged a fire spell to damage that black maw. But...it laughed. And screamed. And cried. A cacophony of voices distorted and modulated erupted from the hole. It’s bulky arm grabbed my legs and hurled me into one of its copies, my ribs shatter upon collision. I could barely breathe, fighting for air as I force myself to stand but a glance down shows a ripped stump. Before I can react another monster slams me further into the rubble with a stomp, the use of force nearly kills me if not for Razor Vine partially deflecting the strike.
I barely keep conscious as I awake in the cavern the beasts emerged from. I attempt to move, using the blade as leverage. I prepare another aero the send me upward and over the beasts, perhaps getting far enough away to regroup. Shaking from above unbalances me and I fall onto something soft. I open my eyes and are face to face with human eyes. I want to get away from it and as I back away, the horror is illuminated for me. The same ashen vines we’ve seen from corrupted lands has snaked its way into the demolished city. People who couldn’t be saved in time...their bodies are pierced by roots, mangled and cocooned. Black viscera leaks from the bodies, they’re used as living hosts for these new creatures. Shadowy holes were forming on their bodies, unformed heartless began to come from the abyss. This war, I couldn’t imagine it’d ever get to this stage.
I was only snapped out of my fear as my fellow master K pulled me behind a wall of crystal forming from her keyblade. She began to fire crystal pillars to surround the abominations, not stopping until they were encased by several layers. V, a master with a penitent for healing, began fussing over my leg. He was a former scholar himself, joining the guard after his wife became a keyblade wielder. But she showed great potential, just as she was relentlessly casting magic to keep these creatures held. But we could all see how little it was doing, the creatures were already cracking the rock and shadows began flying out from their face holes. K told me she was uncertain we could leave alive, but someone needs to warn the rest of the city. She gave a look to her husband. V, crying and nodding, knowing this was the last time he’d see his wife as he pulled me out of there. Krystal looked forward, and began spreading crystal around the area until everything was encased, including herself.
After several attempts to cure my foot, the magic finally took and I walked to the meeting of the masters of Onyx Castle. The 9 of us who passed our mark of mastery, the ruler of the Onyx Castle Ox, and our commander and grand-master X. Several days had gone by since our attack and things were more dire than the entire decades worth of fights we endured. These new creatures we deemed Monoliths were untouchable. And worse, they acted as the perfect lance for our defenses, shadows could appear through the black portals in their faces. The meeting broke our spirits, so we were willing to accept any solution. I wish I could go back and do anything in my power to stop X from saying what he said next. X stood and presented his final gambit, using the same ritual that began this war centuries ago. We would take the dive into the heart and use darkness to shield ourselves from disintegration, as shadows could come into contact with the monoliths. It was insane, dangerous, and most importantly our last option. 10 of us, the 9 masters and X, used darkness to awaken something in us...everything is hazy afterwards.
“The last thing I remember was the falling of the black leaf oak, its gargantuan size demolishing half the city in its impact. Around buildings burned and shadows streamed through the streets, consuming anything living. I looked down and saw deformed limbs with knife long black claws. An emblem was on my chest, that of the heartless. Giving out a scream unheard across the city, I plunged my hand into my chest and crushed the emblem in my hands. I fall to the ground as jet black viscera poured from my chest, and the rest is history.”
Details are hazy upon wake up, his body felt rigid and strained yet his mind was swimming in a dense fog. Shouting, clawing, blood; Quill remembers looking down and seeing strange black chitin that grew from his skin. Some kind of scuffle as things become hazy in his memory again. He waked some time later in a cell with an electric collar, he learned over the course of the first day that escape wasn't possible. He wonders what happened to his keyblade and why he can't feel a connection to it.
A week goes by and the structure he's in take a strange amount of shaking, suddenly the facility is immediately louder. Several other people are placed in cells and others are taken to another location. "Could they be Keyblade users as well?" Quill wonders. His inquiry is cut short by the intense punishment of the guards, none too happy about his apparent rampage a week ago.
It’s become difficult to focus since I came back, as if I’m not mentally present and still back at home. I feel out of synch here. I think it puts off people, the difficulty explaining it is that I don’t blame them. I feel out of place.
Quill seems distant in his neutral expression, a combination of seriousness and calm that radiates a disconnection from the current events. Yet internally his mind is in a swirl of emotions and thoughts it’s difficult to vocalize them. He lives life at a slow going pace, using the occasional moments of strenuous exercise and fighting to release pent up energy.
What's most important to you?
Making amends for the Sins of my pasts, finding shape in a world broken and shapeless. As he sees it, life is now a meaningless series of events he needs to find a path for once again.
What do you want outta life?
To amass gain control over life again. He doesn't see why he's been given another chance at life but hopefully a reason will emerge.
What are you afraid of?
MY SIIIIIIIINS. (But seriously). He has taken a dangerous road and come out the other side afraid that he can't return to decency as a human being. He's worried he only can make sense of reality through the eyes of a monster.
I first noticed the red streaks that went along my body, they seemed the pulse a pale white and a blood red. It spider'd through my body, all creeping from blacked scarred skin that beats along my trachea.
Quill’s stark gray hair hides shades of his former hair color, an aquamarine that has faded heavily. It’s unkempt size conveniently partially hid The Eye, and his recently deformed ears. An opaque piercing eye without an iris, like Them. Quill’s body hadn’t been the same since he woke up. His body is covered in a black chitin-like armor. It hardened on his arms and legs, while becoming more malleable with segmented plates and straps along his torso. His hands and feet had grown solidified stygian claws, they seemed to spike out from his bones.
His Keyblade had stopped returning to him, so Quill kept it on his person. The Keyblade was heavy, it’s gnarled oak handle inexplicably held up the broad stone blade. The edge was unsharpened, yet with enough strength one could force it to slice through weight alone. It’s name was once Razor Vine, but that name feels like a shadow of what it had become.
While in Paladin form, the chitin armor grows out and becomes a fortified half-plate, with an angular shield forming from his left arm. The armor stretched along his neck into a spiked faceplate that covered his mouth.
While in Monk form, plated gauntlets of large size grow over Quill's hands, while plating protrudes from his back to support his spine. Sharp knee brace and boots grow and give him slight height increase. A light helmet grows and hooks around his jaw.
High Jump (2) [+]
Dodge Roll (2) [+]
Guard (2) [+]
Magic Lock-On (2) [+]
Item Boost (2)
Second Wind (4)
Damage Syphon (3) [+]
Lucky Lucky (3)
Cover (3) [+]
MP Haste (3) [+]
Second Chance (4) [+]
Reload Boost (4) [+]
Counterattack (4) [+]
MP Rage (3) [+]
Berserk (2) [+]
Critical Plus (3) [+]
Healing Guard (3) [+]
MP Gift (3)
Combo Lv1-3 (3-5) Lv1, Lv2, Lv3 [+]
EXP Writer 3 (0) [+]
Blend (0) [+]
Sliding Dash [+]
Barrier Surge [+]
Blue Mage (Job Ticket)
Razor Vine [Encased in Stone]
Holy Circlet [+]
White Fang [+]
Brave Warrior, Mystic Chain, Ray of Light, Energy Bangle
Hair was originally a darker shade of jade.
Averages 5 hours of sleep, contributes to his prickly personality.
Quill uses the code name Q, representing the passing of his mark of mastery. He completed the requirements of the test after saving a group of young keyblade wielders in training.
Full name is _____ _________.
Quill’s world and visual aesthetic was based on early D&D and the cinematics of the Soulsborne franchise.