Sol Vihata

by **Sol Vihata** Wed May 27, 2020 12:25 pm

Sol Vihata
Non-Quincy Human Type

Sol Vihata WyedilI

I D E N T I F I C A T I O N

Name: Sol Vihata (Oswald Báthory)
Apparent Age: Mid 40s
Actual Age: 29
Eye Color: Blue/Grey

Height: 6’ 3”

Weight:185 lbs.
Hair Color and Style: White, messy, shoulder length

Clothing and Accessories:

Sol wears everything that he has. Which is very little to say the least, a black shirt accompanied by a pullover hoodie and a thick dark green rain coat that looks as bad as it smells. Fingerless knit gloves and two layers of pants, sweats under baggy cargo pants that had seen better days. Finally he wears hiking boots that had been worn and look on the verge of falling apart. Sol does try to change clothes when he can, as if the thought of washing what he has never crossed his mind. He does wear a scarf on occasion to hide his face should the occasion call for it and a set of prayer beads that are kept on his wrist.

Generalized Appearance:

There’s no tactful way to describe Sol’s appearance other than to say that upon first glance he looks like nothing more than a drug-addled old vagrant. It is almost to the point of being meticulously planned as he spends most of his life on the run, preferring not to be noticed as he doesn’t want to be found by authorities or those who are hunting him down. Dirty, pale skin and tired blue eyes, the pupil in his right eye is tattered and twisted forming a spiraled design that is hard to remember after looking at it closely. Despite standing over six-feet-tall, he slouches a lot and moves in a lazy and lethargic manner.

Under the dirty layers of ragged clothing and the presentation of appearing twenty years older than he is, Sol would be a poster boy for physical abuse. While oddly enough he is in excellent physical condition, he has a plethora of scars across his body. Bullets, knifes, the odd animal claw or bite mark. While those alone are a testament to his resiliency, it’s the burn marks that look the most painful. The burns cover half his back and wrap under his right arm, crawling up his body to end just beneath his right ear. There are several more along his legs and arms, almost appearing to be handprints.

Spiritual Pressure Analysis:

Sol’s spiritual presence feels like trying to grab a tattered cloth in a tornado. For those attuned enough to actually take hold of it? It floods the mind with a sample of what he hears in his head, a cacophony of emotions and barely heard whispers that assault the senses. A lure for some, a scalding fire for others.

Overall Personality:

Spending his time tucked in alleyways and drooling on himself, most people pass him off as nothing more than a filthy wretch, a beggar best left forgotten in the dregs of society. A drug addict hooked on pharmaceuticals, he wishes for nothing more than to be left alone.

Or so he tells himself.

Sol is plagued by a myriad of unanswered questions. He is a person who cares for the well-being of others yet finds difficulty in expressing himself. Struggling with a symphony of voices in his mind that sometimes speak for him, Sol tries on occasion to break from his overwhelming loneliness. He is cautious of others, afraid of getting attached as his past has shown him what happens to those that get too close. Murder and betrayal dogs his steps, after all.

Wandering aimlessly from city to city to get his fix, the open road has lead him to meet just as many individuals that bring out his good nature as well as those who would coax out his depravity. He is difficult to read in this regard, as he can be a caring and empathetic man but can turn callous and hateful just as quick. Prone to bouts of anger, sometimes leading to wanton violence, Sol does all he can to suppress this side of himself. This is why he spends his time almost constantly under the influence of whatever mind-altering drugs he can get his hands on. He believes it is better to quiet or distort all the voices, even his own.

Positive Traits:

Compassionate – Sol has a soft spot for those needing a helping hand, those who are similar to him. Down on their luck, struggling, lost and forgotten. He’s a sucker for a good sob story and has a particular soft spot for those suffering from trouble at home. While offering a helping hand usually ends up being more trouble than he intended to deal with, it doesn’t stop him from trying again and again to help those in need.

Empathetic – Good or bad, Sol can put himself in another person’s shoes. He understands the needs of others, their frustrations and anxieties. Many people just hit rock bottom and even though he is a homeless vagrant, a foreigner to many, he still offers a helping hand when he can.

Genuine – If he tells you something, he means it. If he makes a promise or offers a smile, there is no lie or dishonesty behind it. Sol doesn’t have the patience for wordplay and likes to cut through the need to read between the lines. The vagrant simply doesn’t have any ulterior motives or hidden agendas. That said, he does not tolerate being lied to and sometimes will respond violently.

Tenacious – Unyielding, never backing down, and bordering the line between courage and simply being stubborn. He does not stay down when he should, pushes forward even against impossible odds. Despite his bouts of depression and self-loathing, he has a strong will to live.

Versatile – Using what’s around him to achieve his goals, be it in battle or stealing from a local pharmacy, adapting to changes on the fly and taking advantage of his surroundings. Sol has no qualms about throwing sand in an opponent’s face, retreating, flanking, or even mimicking an opponent to throw them off guard. There is no tactic too low or too complicated for him to implement both in a fight and in his overall survival.

Negative Traits:

Naive – Sol tends to be a tad bit too trusting. Not only that but he is a terrible judge of character. While he can hold his own against the world’s most vaunted martial artists, he has a terrible sense of reading people. He takes everything at face value, those sob stories he is so willing to believe are just as dangerous at getting him to do something he shouldn’t. The vagrant would love to trust his gut, his instincts, but the voices in his head had tricked him so many times that it is difficult to see a person for who they truly are.

Anger – If there was any truth to a berserker’s rage, Sol would be the epitome of that. Inconsolable rage, pent up aggression, whatever you want to call it, it is something terrifying to behold. Nothing else matters until he smashes everything in his sight, this feeling only multiplied in the presence of the dead.

Unstable – Dementia. Trauma. Substance abuse. All these things are a recipe for disaster in a man who can fling a truck down the street with telekinesis. He blames himself for developing it, falling into the clutches of drugs and yielding so readily to his anger. Voices prattle in his head, his dreams are nothing but the worst of nightmares, and occasionally he sees things he knows shouldn’t be there. Sometimes the dead seek him out because he can see them and he tries his best to ignore them, writing them off as more illusions. Bouts of laughter slip out of his mouth, cursing and shouting at nothing. It can be noted that he has had violent outbursts, his slip of the mind causing his telekinetic powers to lash out at everything around him. Even injuring or killing bystanders. Sometimes he’s able to pull himself from it, a difficult process that takes a great deal of willpower to overcome. And while he needs his abilities to fend off some of the creatures that come looking for him, it only causes him to fall further into madness.

Addict – All the good, all the bad, anything that you may have learned about him can be chucked out the window. Once he’s knocked back a handful of pills or starts to take the harder narcotics, his personality can be broken down into a catatonic mess or flared into a spastic lunatic. While on the rare occasion this can provide comical situations, it is anything but as it is something he struggles to pull from but feels as though he has no choice. The back and forth is an endless grind, the fight is pointless and sometimes leaves him in long bouts of sobbing before the voices grow louder and louder, forcing himself to indulge and lying to himself that he had no choice.

Reckless – Sol cares little for his well being. He views himself as a coward, a weakling, a monster that should be put down but lacks the conviction to do it himself. He takes enough drugs that would kill a normal man, trusts to easily, and has no reservations with throwing himself in harm’s way. The vagrant often overestimates his own resiliency, which can leave him on the brink of death more often than not.

Pyrophobic – The flicker of flames can overwhelm him. A roaring fire can leave him panicked, even paralyzed. Even a simple lit match can send a chill up his spine. Visions of a woman twisted by flame and who could summon fire with nothing but a look have plagued his nightmares for as far back as he can remember. Fire is one of the few things that will shake him from an angered or deranged state, even overwhelming his ability. This fear of fire is one of the reasons why he wears so many layers of clothing and suffers from the occasional bout of insomnia.

Loyalties: Sol has no true loyalties to anyone but himself as of now.

Goals: To quiet the voices in his head and be free from those who would do him harm. Despite being in a constant haze, Sol wants to live a quiet life with people he can trust.

Habits: Drugs are a prevalent part of his everyday routine. From sudafed to oxycodone, it doesn’t matter so long as he takes something to help with the voices rambling constantly in his mind. He tends to watch people often, their mannerisms and their relationships with others. Being someone constantly ignored, his stench alone forcing others to ignore him, it has allowed him to observe quietly. Other times he is sleeping, almost constantly, as that helps pass time. Some cities have communities of homeless that he interacts with on occasion, other don’t and he’s forced to fend for himself. That aside, he does spend a great deal of time traveling, from neighborhood to neighborhood, city to city, country to country.

B A C K G R O U N D

Snapshots

-Birth.
-Murder of his family, village left in flames, surfacing of power
-Trained in mountains under his savior and mentor, powers suppressed
-Murder of his mentor, flees
-Forced into underground pit fights, drug addiction began
-Escape, death of a friend, powers begin to resurface
-Time in Japan, taken in by a convenience store owner, meets a girl
-Tortured, powers awakened, descent into madness and drug-addled vagrancy

Overarching History

Oswald “Oz” Báthory was born in Adony, a small village whose only worth was the export of leather products. It rested on the border of Hungary and Romania but rarely received any notice by either. There he lived with his mother, father, and little sister. To this day he cannot recall the names of any of them and has trouble even remembering who they were. His father, a factory worker who was an abusive brute, would beat him almost constantly. A price he paid to deter the man’s wrath away from his mother and sister. An outcast at school, as his bruises and short-temper made him difficult to approach, he spent much of his youth trying to make money by any means necessary and insuring that his sister could maintain her violin lessons.

It was after a particularly brutal confrontation with his father that left him hospitalized. He loved his sister, despite her age she had a sense of wisdom to her. She made him feel he could do so much more with his life, achieve a higher calling and to reach for the stars. When his father went after her, he took the brunt of that beating. There upon the hospital roof he contemplated taking one more step before being approached by a woman with fiery red hair. They talked, the conversation confusing, terrifying, but also empowering. She made him a promise. A promise that things would be better, no matter how awful they seemed.

Weeks later his father died in an accident at work. It was so bad that they labeled it a freak accident and his body couldn’t barely be identified. Despite the financial ramifications this may have had, it was as if a weight had been lifted from the family. Over the months they made due, cut costs, moved into a smaller home. For once, they were happy. Happy until the night of his sister’s violin recital.

The village was set ablaze. Chaos reigned as people screamed and panicked. Among the rubble lay Oswald, covered in blood, cuts, and bruises. Instead of crying out as any child would, he was trembling with pure anger as he looked upon the woman responsible for the carnage wrought. She was fire incarnate, writhing with a twisted form that warped the mind. Flames licked across his body, burning him as he tried to crawl away, fear quickly overtaking his rage. Mind shattered, slowly burning to death, he was saved by an old man by the name of Alexander Forenko.

Unable to remember his own name or the events of that fateful night. Alex, a crotchety old coot who fancied himself a scholar and martial artist. After recovering in a hospital for awhile, healing faster than he had any right to, Alex eventually agreed to let the boy be his apprentice. The old man was certain he could create his own style of martial arts and was determined to teach this boy with no name. They had found themselves residing in Mount Hua where the conditions were harsh to say the least.

Aside from conditioning his body and learning various forms of martial arts, Oswald was taught everything from simple algebra to various languages. Academics wasn’t a strong suite for him but Alex insisted he at least try. And also insisted he have a name as the boy couldn’t remember the one he was given. Sol Vihata. Years passed and they established a sort of routine. The old man from Russia had become not only a mentor and teacher but a father figure.

Catastrophe had caught up with him as the woman from his nightmares, the creature of the flames, appeared before them one night. Despite the many battles Sol would come to face, nothing could be compared to the sheer violence of the fight between Alex and the woman who called herself Belisama. It left the only home he had known in ash and the only father he had in a charred crisp, reaching towards the sky with a face that tried to smile through the pain. As Sol fled down the mountain, he eventually found himself in Hong Kong after weeks of traveling, where he was taken in by those of ill repute.

Forced into pit fights after not only showing exceptional skill but the first signs of his telekinetic powers, he was force fed various narcotics to battle the steadily increasing signs of schizophrenia. Sol vaguely recalls facing a bear and a gorilla at one point. The voices had begun to scramble to the surface. Among the prized fighters was Kusanagi. Much like Sol, he was obviously not a local and was forced into the fights. A bright and eccentric person, he was one of the few people that could actually match Sol who had been given the moniker “Din Gau”. Between a budding friendship, gladiator-style matches, and psychedelic trips, Sol and Kusanagi devised a plan to escape to Japan.

Eventually Kusanagi and Sol made their escape, the series of events both bloody and disastrous. Kusanagi had sacrificed himself so that Sol could escape, the boy from the mountains watching in dismay as his only friend was gunned down in a hail of bullets. After finding himself in Japan, he tried desperately to free himself from his addictions, only making headway when a convenience store owner took a chance on him and offered him both a job and a place to stay. It was many months before Sol finally met her. A foreigner like himself by the name of Lilian Harper.

She was an exchange student from the UK, Sol found himself absolutely smitten with her. Smart, intelligent, funny. Simply the sound of her voice helped soothe him, it made the voices in his head quiet and the need for drugs pointless. And finally the voices stopped all together. The darkness that he had battled so long against were starting to be edged out only to be replaced by horror and pain once more. The arrival of Lilian’s sister, Saya, brought nothing but tragedy. The woman had strength far surpassing that of a human, wielding terrible magic.

She beat him. Tortured him. Broke him. Much to his horror, Belisama was there...with Lilian by her side. Again Belisama promised him that same promise she made him when he was a child. Everything would be better, no matter how awful it seemed. Voices clawed to the surface, like a dam that had finally broken. The questions that sifted in his mind were drowned out by a thousand voices all vying to be heard. Creatures from twisted nightmares, holes in their chests, began to appear and Sol ripped apart anything that approached him. The damage done, Belisama and her companions vanished into the night as Sol not only ripped apart these monstrous creatures but the locals he had come to know.

He no longer stayed in one place after that night. The brief reprieve he had from drugs only multiplied their hold on him. Sol never again tried to start a home for himself, never sought out companionship. Making money for drugs where he could, the training and education he had received squandered, he spent day after day in a battle between the voices in his head and the need for another fix. Wandering aimlessly, he kept moving forward. To survive. To press on. To search for a reason to keep going. A small voice clamored to be heard in the back of his head telling him to push past the regret and pain. Push for something greater, to reach for the stars and never let go.

Name of Power

Harbinger

Translation of Power

“And the dagger sunk deep into the heart of the demon,
His final words were that of a whisper and nothing more than a speck in time;
Tis will not be my end, nor will it be the truth of my world,
I deny you, All Father of the Sightless Eye.
I deny you and all that follow your line…”

To say that it is telekinesis wouldn’t be the full truth. The truth is that his mental power to manifest his will into a physical force is fueled by the presence of the dead. The more there are, the more potent his abilities become. This ability sets his right eye ablaze in a red smoke that spills from the socket and causes his tattered pupil to shift and warp constantly. The longer his exposure and the more there are, the more powerful his abilities become and the more he loses all sense of self.

The catch to wielding all this power? It causes the voices in his head to come roaring to the surface and plunges him further down the path of madness. His body cannot handle the overload, skin blistering and splitting, joints popping out of place and bones breaking. His irresistible instinct to destroy them weighs heavily against that of Hollows breeds over Shinigami. In the presence of Shinigami he still feels a sudden increase in his abilities but the rage is replaced with a cold, sickening feeling that builds up inside. It grows heavier and heavier, as if a cancer had taken hold of him.

And the only way for him to recover, the only way for him to quiet the voices inside? Devour the spirits of the dead.

STATS & SKILLS
SPENT XP/TOTAL XP
1000/1000

STATS

Reiatsu: 108

Power: 25
Spirit: 38
Agility: 15
Durability: 30

SKILLS
Power Affinity: Basic (90)
Physical Combat: Apprentice (210)
Spiritual Combat: Basic (90)

Evasion: Beginner (30)

Custom: None

by **Meridith** Wed May 27, 2020 5:03 pm

I like the theme of the power, we'll explore it more as you hit your first release, keep in mind your power at initial release as you are a Special Human is considered out of control or relatively minor. Let us know if you have any questions about what the potency should be here.

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Sol Vihata

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