|First Project of 2017!|
The name's Pyro, or Kat if you want
Smol roll of happiness and insanity
Self Taught + Digitalsss
Professional Ear Killer
Obsesser of Homestuck and Doctor Who
Eater of Spicy foods and sweets
Drinker of soda, coffee, and tea
Overall a random child stuck in the web of the spider called The Internet
(I stream every Friday [note that I start at random times])
Name: Flynx Torchwood
Real name: Tamara Sorrel Miralynn
Age: 19 (in Earth years)
Occupation: Mercenary (former), Assassin (current)
Species: Human/Lynx hybrid
Weapons: Double-sided battleaxe (primary), pyromancy (secondary)
Weaknesses: Once her hands and feet are wet/cold, her pyromancy powers are dead. She can’t handle the cold well (She shakes too much from the cold to fight/run properly). She doesn’t do well in bright/foul smelling areas due to her sharp sense of vision and smell (Ex: If someone directs a light at her eyes, she’s temporarily blind/if someone throws something foul-smelling at her, she’ll start gagging.)
Likes: Fruits, sweets, raw meat and blood, cats, silence, books, fire, coffee, warm objects, fighting (physically, like fisticuffs)
Dislikes: Cold, rain, large bodies of water, snow, loud people/areas, being lectured, vegetables, her past, darkness, nosy people
Imagine a world with animals with human like figures called Amalia and mages are enemies. Mages live in the land called Torenya, a land with stable and prosperous towns with medieval-like houses, whereas Amalias live in a land called Elrick, a land where only forests and villages can be seen. For generations, they have fought and much blood has been shed. In a recent generation, Torenya’s king proposed a treaty. He offered his daughter to the leader’s son of the Katamotza clan. They fell in love and married, the long war coming to an end.
But the question is: who am I? I am dead. The princess Tamara Sorrel Miralynn, heiress to the Torenya throne and the leader’s daughter of the Katamotza clan, gone. She no longer exists. Now, I am Flynx Torchwood, 19 years old. Everyone who was aware of my existence knew me as the Assassin of Torenya. Some believe I was a stone-hearted killer who had no emotion, others believe I was a vigilante, but all knew me as the freelance assassin I was.
But anyways, let’s start somewhere at the beginning. I am the daughter of Lucian Sorrel Katamotza, general and leader’s son of the Katamotza clan and Angela Miralynn, mage and heiress of the Torenya throne of the time, and I was their only child. I had the pyromancy inherited from my mother and the killing instinct from my father. My parents had hoped to raise me to be a strong queen and see me take their place on the throne. Their dreams had never reached their goal.
My parents were murdered, their bodies mutilated and disemboweled. I had awoken to screams and rushed to their room. I barged in, seeing sight of them, and their murderer. At the time I was 9, tried to fight back, but ultimately lost. I was badly wounded and was tossed into the river behind my former home, left to drown, freeze, or bleed out. I drifted down stream and later awoke to a throbbing headache, water and blood. I forced myself up, dragging myself out of the river and to a spot to tend to the wounds on my left arm and back. Once I had patched them well enough, I let out a brief sob to mourn for my parents before seeking shelter. From that point on, I grew up an orphan in the shadows, teaching myself how to fight and survive before taken in 3 months later by a guild of assassins and warriors called Bloodeye. I vigorously trained with them, fueled with an iron will to fight and survive.
I left the guild at age 16, offered a job to be a mercenary in the castles of Nehema, who was ruled by a tyrant that wanted more bloodshed between Elrick and Torenya. For the next 4 months, I was a mercenary for the king before he was assassinated by yours truly. After that, I became a freelance assassin.
Later that month, after taking on an assassination mission, I was believed to be dead. They had found an unidentifiable corpse under the rubble that had been believed to be me. The man I had went to assassinate had set this place up to kill me and bomb the building. It almost worked. The rubble had mauled my right arm into a bloody, scarred mess and had taken my left eye as well.
Everyone believed that I had died, and I believed it was better that way. I now walk these dark streets, a mask and goggles to conceal my identity, the band on my arm and scarf the last remaining things from my past, the bandages I wear to hide the scars I wear, and my axe, carrying the blood of those I’ve killed.
-------------Midromeda belongs to SeikoloveyCakes