Character OTS



Couple OTS


User Avatar
  • OOC Name: N A K I
  • Posts: 5 (Find All Posts)
  • Rank: Exile
  • Age & Season: 10 (Winter ❅)
  • Species Equine
  • Lineage: Local
  • Height: 17hh
  • Sex: Stallion
  • Mate: None
  • Crystals:
  • Tag: @[Namira]


Don't fear the Reaper, darling

Outpost Items

This user has no items.
View All Items

OOC & Character(s)


He is covered in shades of blue; from deepest Navy to bold cobalt, Namira is easy to spot in the sea of red sands. Along with this quite azure color palette, he boasts iconic markings upon his face. Outlining the shape of his own skull, white splashes away the color. Black remains around the sockets of his eyes, and the elongated pattern of bone at his nostrils. An almost festive look--there are designs that encircle the sockets of ice-blue and stretch from his mouth as if he wore a Glasgow smile.

Hooves of the same color to match his eyes, Namira also wears stripes along his back. Atop all of this are the faint glowing 'cracks' in his skin which radiate an almost fog type substance--giving Namira an ethereal appearance, especially during the night hours.

Aside from odd coloration and coat patterns, one will notice the unusual broken and sharpened teeth he holds. Not born with such, they changed after the shift in appetite Namira had. Years of gnawing away bone and flesh have caused his teeth to take these unusual shapes, giving him an almost predatory look should he ever flash them in a smile.


Independent & Curious & Scientific & Polite & Patient & Slow-burn

Namira is the kind of stag who, despite his courteous and genteel manner, will unnerve you. There is something lurking beneath his calm demeanor, a monster, a demon, that yearns to be heard by the world. But alas, the skull-painted stag has control over the beast and only when the rare temper flares does it truly rear its ugly head.

He knows his manners and uses them well, a tell-tale sign of his life before being condemned to die in the wastes. Namira treats everyone with the utmost respect should they do so in kind, and even those he dislikes with passion--there is still an almost polite nature by which he cuts them down. Always saying something, but never saying it straight; Namira could insult you with pious words before your mind could even comprehend what was said. In another life, perhaps he could have been a wicked political competitor.

He shares a strange fascination with the dead, death and decay. Though a healer he may be, there is no hiding the darker fantasies that hold him tight. Namira will not hide his cravings for the flesh of other equine, nor will he apologize for partaking in such taboo. It is simply a part of him.

When performing his magic, Namira often considers the 'reaping' spirit to be his twin brother--who, according to the servants who helped birth the two--was stillborn; and had chunks of his body missing as if something had begun feeding on him long before their birth. It is in this sense, that Namira feels he had, unknowingly, caused the death of his twin and in doing so bound their souls together.


Namira was born to a rather unimportant Lord and Lady in the county of Fell. His mother, Ravenna, had been from a house in the South--though he couldn't tell you what or who she was actually related to. Regardless, his parents were the kind of Lords who thought the world revolved around them, yet in reality they were so low on the totem pole that the rulers themselves had to pull up charts just to remember who, and what, they Lorded over.

And from his birth, both of his parents knew Namira wouldn't be like the normal boys. Expecting twins, Ravenna was shocked into horrid silence when Namria's brother had been born still as the grave; more shockingly, the babe had signs of decay and rot. Chunks of his leathery body had been removed, bitten off it would seem. Meanwhile, Namira uttered not a cry, and simply stared on at the gory scene with an almost knowing, morbid fascination.

Yet, the oddities surrounding the boy didn't stop at birth. He was silent, only choosing to speak when he felt necessary--which often unnerved the wet-nurses and servants, for what little boy didn't enjoy talking about the things he'd explored or seen in this bright new world? He showed an intelligence far exceeding his own years, using vocabulary one would expect a full grown nobleman to use, not a boy of barely one. And, amid all this strange behavior, Namira began to feel a rather....uncanny hunger grow. It started small, as most things do. A curious thought to grow into something far more volatile. The taste of equine flesh--that was what piqued the interest of the young boy.

And so, with out so much as a thought about the repercussions he could face, Namira took the chance when it presented itself. Tearing off a chunk of his nurse-maid's arm, the boy got the first taste of what would become the norm for him. She reeled in terror and before she could deter the boy and flee--Namira felt for the first time the reach of arcane power that dwelled within him. He felt a movement--almost, as if there were another being tethered to his soul invisibly, that sought out the force of life from another as the boy felt himself compelled to heal the wounded maid. As he stitched her wound with a faint green light, the sounds of shock and horror were heard from farther down from where he stood--his father's prized hound had sustained a wound to the leg, bleeding all over the rocky ground.

Namira, surprised and fascinated by what he had just done, did not see the Maid rush to the guards. She lhad him chained to a tree, and it would have been days before his parents had the courage to confront him.

They told him he was evil, possessed by a devil, and that he had to be dealt with in kind. They brought in experts on the world beyond, healers, and priests of all religions. None could convince the boy that he was evil, and Namira often scoffed at their narrow-minded view of the world. He played along, for the time being, if only to be released from the grips of his solitary confinement.

Namira continued his practice is secrecy as he grew.

The boy now teen had a fascination with death, the occult practices, and the world around him. An odd if not dangerous combination, he often found himself dissecting corpses to understand how they worked--and only as he grew, as well as his own grotesque obsession, did he move on to living specimens. He would cut open a poor lad to see what happened, heal him, and repeat.

It garnered fear from the lowest of low, the gutter rats of society fled from him if his skeletal face dared grace the sewers. Only the desperate took his offers of food and shelter, for many had seen friends disappear into the depths of their lands never to return again. It was then that others among his father's small parcel of land began to notice strange happenings---people were dying in the middle of the night inflicted with wounds they previously didn't possess. Others began to get diseases or fall ill, unable to explain the sudden appearance in such severity of their afflictions many began to wonder if a demon had cursed their lands. Livestock perished in droves, flocks of birds dropped from the sky.

This continued for years, until just after his fifth birthday. Namira was discovered after one of his many 'experiments' had escaped. Mortified, his father stripped him of all titles and bastardized him for the sake of the family name. He had his son arrested by the King's men, and brought to trial before the then King of ambrossius. For the crime of devouring the flesh of another, and performing inhuman practices upon the unwilling (though, mind you Namira countered with the fact that none were unwilling and that all consented) he was to be exiled to the East and stripped of his power. Through some form of Magic Namira had never seen or heard of prior, he was reduced to nothing but an empty shell of his former self and cast out to the wastes to die.

Much to their dismay, however, he survived.

He was not at all entirely helpless when it came to practical survivalist tactics, for he ate upon the corpses in the sand and found water in rare caverns in rocky outcrops. On the rare occasion he hunted down a few exiles unawares that he would be their fate. Though, despite all of that, he found himself plummeting into a pit of madness at the severed connection between what he had come to understand as the bonded soul of his beloved twin---Reaper, as he'd called him internally, taken from his body and lost to the winds.

Namira spent years looking for a way to restore his magic, but has since come up empty handed. It wasn't until the previous Warden (a man who he met on occasion, but always was smart enough to steer clear of) perished did his gaze return to the Oasis. While he has never met the new Warden, he keeps a watchful eye on those who reside within the safe-haven; all the while seeking out a way to restore his connection to the Reaper and the dark healing magics he once possessed.

Dark Healing


The Dark Healer: Namira's magic is bound to the energies of death, almost akin to that of a necromancer. His soul is bonded to his dead twin; one who, upon learning his magic, will seek out proper sacrifice for Namira to perform his dark healing arts. For what is life if not equivalent exchange? To save a life one must take a life, to stitch a wound one must inflict a wound. (any and all magic dealing with the infliction of wounds to another character or party will be discussed before hand by both rpers)

Tier 1: Namira cannot heal more than minor infliction and wounds. Larger issues such as broken bones and life-threatening ailments will have to be passed on to a for more skilled healer. He feels a distant connection to the 'Reaping Spirit'--his twin--and has little control over who or what he targets when performing his magic. Most of the time, Reaper seems to be content with small animals. Be wary when the rodents begin to show signs of cuts and bruises similar to the ones you just had. Exerting himself too much will cause nauseating headaches, nose-bleeds, and vertigo.

Tier 2: Bones and gaping wounds are little trouble for him now. However, due to the shaky connection between the Reaping Spirit and himself, Namira still faces harmful after-effects. While the nose-bleeds have stopped, the headaches and boughs of vertigo will continue until he reaches an equilibrium with the twin souls. It does, however, take less time to stitch up minor afflictions, and the smaller the wound the less counter-affect Namira will feel. The bigger the wound, the bigger the animal needed to conduit the energy. Reaper has now targeted medium sized wildlife.

Tier 3: Namira has begun to reach an equilibrium with the bonded soul of his deceased twin, the Reaping Spirit. With both in tandem with one another, Namira can quickly heal ailments with almost no drawback to himself physically. However, the bigger the wound the costlier the exchange must be. Namira now has a reign on what the Reaping Spirit chooses to transfer the wounds to, and should the situation require that of a living sacrifice to save a life, Namira will find a willing participant. Gone are the days where he haphazardly killed with out question. Should there be no alternative to minor afflictions, Namira will offer himself as the conduit and let the Reaping Spirit inflict the patients wounds upon himself. At times he will still suffer some draw backs, but nothing like his lower tiers.

Tier 4: At this point, Namira and the Spirit have reached a balance. He has control over what and who it targets, and the prices are smaller by comparison. Able to channel it from multiple sources instead of one, he can spread out the afflictions to the sacrificial party and save more lives in the process. He himself can still withstand wounds should no other sources be available The energy in which it takes to heal is significantly reduced, and Namira doesn't worry about backlash from his power any longer. . Though, should he wish to save a life (ie. someone is on the brink of death) he cannot escape it, but cheat it. He and his twin's spirit will seek out a willing participant to sacrifice and use the energy to bring the other back to full health. There is no escaping death, not even for the most skilled of practitioners.


None as of now


Avi: Levy
Ref: Lucid