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Author Topic: Ciprian Voda  (Read 986 times)

Description: Prince. Purple Dusk to Green. Played by phinn.

Offline Ciprian Voda

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Ciprian Voda
« on: Jan 19, 17, 02:00:09 PM »
The Basics

Character Name: Ciprian Voda
Nicknames: Ciprian is usually called by his surname, Voda. Among the Myos, he's known as Ghost.
Age:  39 (b. 155 AP)
Race:  Short Lived
Caste:  Prince
Birth Territory: Dena Nehele
Home Territory: Little Terrielle

Birthright Jewel: cut Purple Dusk
Offering Jewel:  cut Green

Role: MoG, Caecian District
Faction: Myos Guildsman

Appearance


Play By: Guy Pearce
Distinguishing Features:
If anyone ever saw him properly cleaned up, Ciprian Voda would be a handsome man. He's got the dark hair and strong features of a typical Dena Nehelian, but he's rarely ever clean-shaven and rarely dressed in clothes that are completely unwrinkled. He walks a very fine line between being so relaxed as to be disrespectful and not. Part of the reason for this is that wearing clothes that are slightly too large or that are worn loose makes it difficult to tell what kind of shape he's in. He has trained with dedication for the past decade to bring pride to the Myos guild, but he's perfectly happy to let the average person assume there's a wine belly beneath that ill-fitting coat.

Personality

Personality:
There is a great and steep disparity between Voda's apparent personality and his actual personality. In truth, he is a somber, stony-eyed, quiet man who wears tragedy like a cloak about him, always. He is a man whose heart quit beating over a decade ago, despite how active his corpse remains. Though he came close once to ending his life in his grief, he's now achieved some distance from the initial torment of his Queen's passing  and the urge to die isn't quite strong enough to actually make him lift his hand to that effect. There is yet a lingering and cutting sense of guilt from that whole affair. No matter how illogical the sentiment is, part of Voda feels like Sorina is dead because he failed to protect her. It doesn't matter that he wasn't with her because she sent him away, or that she chose to put her protection in the hands of someone else. Or even that, had Voda been there, he may not have even been able to prevent the tragedy. The truth of the matter is that his Queen is dead and he is not, and the part of him attuned to that mystical bond will accept no excuse for these conflicting facts. This reality, more than anything else, has made it difficult and rare for Voda to form new relationships that are meaningful. He knows better than anyone that people are fragile creatures, flickering candles in a windstorm just waiting to be snuffed out.

Despite such an outlook, Voda is haunted by the nagging feeling that he was meant for something more than what he is. The depth of his jewels has always baffled him; he is humbled by the blessing he sees them as, but feels like the blessing ought to have gone to someone with more ambition. Maybe it's the mystery of the Darkness' choice to bless him with Green that makes him feel like he has some sort of destiny he's not yet met. Whatever the cause, it now seems to him like it would be an affront to Darkness to cut himself short by his own hand.

When in public, Voda presents a very different face. He seems gluttonously alive, constantly awash in women and wine. He sports a surly attitude that stays just this side of curmudgeonly, and is never out of reach of a witty retort or a clever twist of words. He is quiet at court because he must be, but away from the Queen (whom he does respect, truthfully), he is not shy about his opinions or pastimes. He has very few friends in court because of this, but that's fine with him. The kind of whores you can fuck are FAR more enjoyable to him than the kind who spout protocol all day.

As the months go by, however, the cries of the poor working class seem to Voda to grow louder, while the cackling dalliances of the aristos grow more grating and offensive. Voda knows things will not continue this way forever, and he is grateful for that. He loathes the majority of his aristocratic peers, and secretly longs for the working class citizens to turn their unrest into action. Voda doesn't go out of his way to ridicule or scorn the poor, even when confronted with them while pretending to be the drunken courtier. This is only because Voda, when in that character, doesn't seem to go out of his way to engage anyone except perhaps a lady or two of questionable reputation. When forced to interact with others, however, he shows a blanket disdain for the poor and the rich alike, though he gives no clue to the depth of his true feelings on the matter. Most people write him off as a foul-tempered drunk, if they have cause to consider him at all.

Likes:
  • Getting dirty. Working with his hands to build things, or training outdoors always helps to ground Voda. It reminds him of the time he spent working with his family when younger, specifically in the vineyards. Those were good days.
  • Pushing boundaries. Voda likes breaking the rules, but refrains from doing so most of the time because of the inevitable consequences. He sees himself as particularly clever, though, and enjoys toeing the line between brave and foolhardy sometimes to see how far he can get before being caught, shut down or reprimanded.
  • Hurting/killing/shaming/tricking aristos. They have never loved him or his family, and Voda has no qualms about returning the disdain. It was the political games of the aristos that he feels caused Sorina's death, though he despised the aristos' arrogant attitudes even before then.
Dislikes:
  • Witnessing true suffering. In anyone but aristos, it drives Vado nuts to witness it. He can mask his reaction - leave the room, feign indifference, etc. But it does bother him a great deal. Even as much as he hates aristos, his contracts carried out on them are quick and efficient. He may frighten them occasionally or shame them, but he does not wound them and prolong their physical suffering.
  • The disparity between classes. Voda spent much of his childhood as well as some important time in his later life among the working class at the family vineyard. He has friends there still, and values them more than most of the socialites he's met. He does not hesitate to enjoy all of the comfort his family's wealth affords him, but he often feels guilty for being so gluttonous when there are people in the same city who are nearly starving.
  • Cheap/bad alcohol. He doesn't imbibe nearly so much as he used to, but he buys the good stuff even for appearance's sake. Having grown up on a vineyard, he appreciates good wine and has little patience for the sparkling nonsense passed around at most soirees.
Fears:
  • His grief for Sorina. He still feels it every day, though he's learned how to cope. He fears one day being overwhelmed by it again, and letting go of everything he's worked so hard to build out of a life once ruined.
  • That someone at court will connect him to his alter-ego, the Myos assassin known as Ghost. This fear is born more out of the great respect he has for the guild than anything else. He does not want their name sullied by any connection with his public persona, the drunken Prince.
  • Dying in anonymity. He'd probably never admit it aloud, but it bothers Voda that he hasn't made more of his life. With so much unrest around him, so much suffering and so much decadence, he feels like there's more he could be doing. He's somewhat content with the work he does for Myos and the secrets he learns by pretending to care about court matters... but late at night when there's no one around to interrupt his thoughts, he wonders if he wasn't called to be something greater than what he's become.
Craft Strengths:
  • Masking Psychic Scent. If he hadn't learned to do this and do it well, Voda would never have lasted as long as he has living dual lives. Ghost has a distinctly different psychic scent than Ciprian Voda does.
  • Physical enhancement. Voda works hard to keep himself in peak condition, but there are very often times when it's beneficial to him to be able to operate at above-peak performance. This is useful when getting the drop on a contracted mark, whether it's scaling buildings to get around a ward or being able to manhandle a fully-grown warlord on occasion.
  • Advanced Death Spells: Years spent working Bidea as one of its feared Myos assassins has refined Voda's proficiency with the Death Spells needed to do his work. As Ghost, Voda's preferred modus operandi was to kill without leaving any evidence behind to signify the cause of death. He is now exceptionally skilled at conjuring Death Spells that leave next to nothing behind for others to find.

    Craft Weaknesses:
  • Deception craft. Voda can lie like the best of them, and can be very, very convincing. He's as good an actor as anyone, which is usually enough to fool most people when he needs to. If he ever has to actually apply craft to help a lie along, however, he suffers for it. This is an obvious weakness for someone who has a secret alter ego as an assassin.
  • Labor craft. Voda gets too much enjoyment from working with his hands when he has the opportunity. He never learned to apply craft to things he could do manually, and is stricken with impatience and clumsiness when asked to try.
  • Diplomacy & Contract Craft: While serving as Sheyla's Steward in Caecian, Voda discovered that while he had a head for numbers and figures just fine, he was actually rubbish at the Craft at which Princes typically excel. If he wants to be diplomatic, he is forced to rely on his mundane perceptions of those around him, which are often unintentionally influenced by his own dark outlook.
Life Story

Family:
Mother: Alecea Voda, White - Tiger Eye Hearth witch (B. 128 AP)
Father: (deceased)
Siblings: Iosef Voda, Tiger-Eye - Purple Dusk Warlord (B. 154 AP)

History:
Voda's family was wealthy, but it wasn't a wealth that'd been easily attained. While some families in Dena Nehele had wealth running back for generations and generations, Voda Voda's family's wealth began only with the very hard work of his grandfather. When this Adrian Voda married his beloved Victoria, her family (who was a bit better off than Adrian's) gifted the couple with a plot of land in Tulsbruja, to the west of Vaslui in the hills that preambled Shalador's Tamanara Mountains. It wasn't a terribly rich piece of land, but Adrian had been determined to make something of it. He started a modest vineyard, and for years he worked himself to the bone. By day he had to attend to his duties as a carpenter in order to provide for his wife and small family, and by evening he gave every spare moment he had to helping his vineyard grow. There were tragedies and mistakes made, and it took several years of trying before Adrian got a real and proper harvest from that modest little plot of land. It was enough to encourage him, however. Over the years he refined his skill and his grapes, and by the time his first son gave his offering, Adrian was selling enough wine to buy a bit more land, expand his vineyards, and support his family.

His son Nicolae didn't have much choice but to learn the trade. Luckily, he'd inherited his father's passion for the wine business as well as the responsibility. The vineyard was thought to be the one farthest west while still within the boundaries of Dena Nehele, and the soil there lent the wine pressed from it a unique and pleasant flavor. It was popular enough among the denizens of Dena Nehele, but it was even more popular for some reason among Shaladorians. Nicolae wasn't one to miss an opportunity, and established a regular chain of trades with several Shaladorian merchants.

By the time Voda was born 155 years after the Purge, his family's wealth and resources were well established. Nicolae had never felt any pull to one particular court or Queen, but when Voda received a Purple Dusk birthright, Nicolae thought it best for the young Prince's future if he received all of the education available to him. He was sent to Vaslui to serve as a ward in the court there when he was old enough, though he returned home often to visit and to learn what he could of the family business. Nicolae retired early to enjoy his hard work and Voda's older brother Iosef remained with the family to take over the bulk of the business operation. The brothers held no sincere malice towards one another, but there was ever the lingering, unspoken jealousy, one of the other. Iosef envied what he thought was the glamorous lifestyle of his Prince brother who was constantly away at court, and Voda wished for little more than to be able to leave the capital and all of the horrible aristocratic vipers behind and spend his days working near his family. These were little things, though, and the family was content, overall.

Things changed for Voda when he met his Queen for the first time. Sorina Hasdeu was an exquisite example of Nehelenese beauty. She was fair of face and dark of hair, with shining eyes and a smile that could shame the sun. She also happened to be ten years Voda's senior and firmly in love with one of her other Princes, to whom she was engaged to be wed. At first, the idealistic young Voda didn't care. He made every attempt the woo his Queen discreetly, and she adored his the attention and devotion of a handsome younger man. In the end, however, she had no intention of changing her plans to marry her fiancé, a jealous Warlord Prince named Remus. When Voda's frustration began to show and Sorina saw that Remus was beginning to notice, she sent Voda away for his own protection. She commanded him to return to his family's home for a season, to return to her when he could accept that he could only serve her with loyalty and friendship, nothing more.

Voda did as he was commanded, though it was through a torrent of conflicting emotions that he complied. After returning home he dove into the family business headfirst, hoping to distract himself from the gaping hole in his very soul that seemed to have opened up at Sorina's rejection. Though the adjustment period between Voda and his brother was certainly rough, and though nothing at all could seem to ease the longing he felt for his Queen, the season did Voda some good. Working alongside his brother and the working-class men and women who kept the business up and running went a long way towards easing some of the bitterness Voda had begun to develop towards his fellow man. The aristos in Vaslui were aware of the Voda family's wealth, yes, but they were also aware that it was "new" money. To them, Voda seemed like a working class upstart masquerading as an aristo. It didn't help that he tended to be blunt about what he was thinking. He'd received the same training in etiquette and protocol as every other young Prince, but seemed to have a harder time turning a blind eye to the duplicitous and arrogant ways of the aristocracy. While court society was too restrained and polite for there to be outright conflicts, Voda nonetheless found himself quite shut out of most social intricacies. The time he spent inserted back into his family - both immediate and the extended family of the workers - managed to remind Voda that not everyone behaved like the vipers at court, and that the world was bigger than Vaslui. These people were honest and forthright, and though some were more noble than others, certainly, the malicious duplicity and greedy manipulations of court life seemed to be more rarely encountered. In addition, being sent away from his Queen had taught him a lesson as well. Knowing now what it was like to be banished completely from her presence, he considered himself ready to return and serve her in whatever capacity she would allow - even if he would never have her in the completeness he desired.

A sudden and intense need to see Sorina woke him one morning, and he deemed it time to return, as she'd promised he could. Thoughts of the beautiful Sorina absolutely overwhelmed him, and he rushed from his family's home, eager to see her. That quiet urgency was not enough to get him back to Vaslui in time to help her, though. He arrived only to find out that Sorina and her First Consort had been murdered in the hours before dawn. Voda's beloved Queen had fallen to the same fate that met so many of Dena Nehele's queens: she was assassinated to prevent her from playing a part in someone else's political games.

To say that Voda didn't handle it well was a bit like saying the frozen mountains of Moesia were a little chilly. Voda was devastated, and came very close to ending his own life in his guilt and grief. He did, in fact, come very close to surrendering his life a few times because of sheer belligerence. The only thing that seemed to ease his suffering was a drunken stupor, so he came to imbibe too frequently to maintain much respectability. He was still Voda, however, and still couldn't quite keep a handle on that mouth of his. If the aristos of Vaslui didn't like a young working class upstart with new money speaking plainly about their ways before, one can imagine how unpopular he was as a drunk.  He made his share of enemies in those days, being unafraid to insert himself into heated discussions no matter which bar he found himself in.

It was only a matter of time, really, before he offended the wrong person and someone began consulting with the guilds about finding a way to shut the errant Prince up properly. Providence had a hand on Voda, however. It so happened that one of his obstinate discourses had fortuitously benefited a particular young woman. She hadn't requested aid when an overly-amorous, self-entitled aristo began crowding her space, but Voda hadn't missed the chance to humiliate the noble by quite loudly drawing attention to the fact that the young lady did not seem interested in the man's advances. The evening ended with Voda being thoroughly trounced in an alley near the bar, compliments of that aristo (who happened to be more powerful than Voda even when Voda WASN'T three sheets to the wind). Voda gave the event little thought afterwards, in part because his recollection of the night was a bit less-than clarion, but mostly because that wasn't a terribly unusual ending to his night.

It might have been a more memorable occasion for him if he'd known that the young woman from whom he'd drawn the aristo's attention away was a member of the dreaded Myos guild. But, while Voda might have been amused to find out that the girl could have defended herself quite handily on her own, the real interest would have come months later, when talk about having him put down began to surface. The guildswoman, known as Sway, decided on Voda's behalf that he ought to submit himself to the guild and live with some sort of purpose, lest he find himself bled out in a dark alley one night when a contact on his life finally came through. Whether Sway 'dragged' him or 'invited' him depends on which of the pair one asks about the matter. Regardless, Voda was intrigued. One of the few constants in his life had been a long-standing disdain for arrogant, snobbish aristos, and the thought of being paid to hunt them was more appealing than it should have been. With a hole in his heart the size of the Tulsbrujan plains, it certainly felt to Voda like he'd never love again, not after Sorina. So why not hate, instead? It made a suitable fire by which to forge the weapons of a new trade, and Voda trained with the dedication of a man who had little else in his life.

That was nearly a decade ago, now. In the years since, Voda's wrath has cooled some. He returned to court a year or so after beginning his training, his absence easily overlooked by the society that did not love him in the first place. He was sober when he returned to court and reacquired a low position of service there, though he gradually seemed to succumb to the drink again. This time it was merely a convincing act, something that let him be written off and underestimated. He performed his duties well enough to keep himself from being dismissed from court, but he's had no better luck making friends this time around than the last. It serves Voda fine, though. He'd much rather spend an evening with a pair of costly whores than with the court's elite anyway. For some time, it's been enough for Voda to live his double life: a surly, slovenly nouveau riche courtier by day and a merciless assassin by night. As the years pass, however, and the cries of Dena Nehele's poor working class grow louder, it's getting more and more difficult for Voda to ignore them and continue in his current lifestyle. It may soon no longer be enough for him to secretly murder the territory's social elite for a price. Though he still feels the emptiness inside of him that opened up at Sorina's death, he's become accustomed to the dull ache. Lately, though, the idea of finding some other way of striking out at the aristos around him has a new kind of lust warming him.

Show Us What You've Got

Character in Play:
Voda sat upright in bed, his lungs filling with a panicked gasp.

Stillness.

He looked about himself, and the quiet of the room seemed eerie and strange when compared to the cacophony of noise and emotion that'd riddled his dream. Awake, he could no longer hear Sorina's voice. Only his own uneven breathing, and the sleepy murmuring of the woman in the bed beside him, somehow still asleep. Voda looked down at her, and for the barest of seconds he couldn’t understand where he was and how he'd come to be here. But that was only a second. Reality poured back in around him, filling in the gaps and reminding him that this was his life, now.

He closed his eyes long enough to wipe at his face with his hands, but in the darkness behind his closed lids he could hear her voice again. Sorina. In the dream, he always heard her crying out for him. For help. It was always dark, too dark for him to see where to go or how to help her. He didn't always find her in the dream, but on the rare occasion he did, it was always too late. He never arrived at her side before the last light had left her eyes, or before that beautiful flesh had started to chill in eerie stillness. Those nights were the worst.

Tonight, thankfully, it'd only been the voice. And though his heart felt like it'd been shredded inside his chest, this was better than the other nights, where he dreamed of finding her corpse. On nights like this one, he could get up, drink another bottle of wine, and go back to sleep afterwards if he wanted. The alcohol wasn't the best crutch, considering his history, but sometimes it felt like it was worth risking Hell and an early grave just to get some peaceful sleep.

Voda got up, and even in untangling limbs and arms in order to do so, his bedmate refused to wake. It was just as well. He had no desire for idle prattle right now. He crossed the room and pushed aside the door that led out to the balcony. It was well before dawn, but late enough in the night still that the city was mostly asleep. The air tonight was damp and cool, and it summoned goosebumps on his skin when he stepped out into it. His hands landed on the railing and he looked out at the dark, quiet night.

In his mind, her voice played over and over again.Help me! Please, help me!

He pushed the thoughts of her away, and he made himself look down at the street below. He picked out little things. Details. Anything to give his mind a focus besides her. He'd been idle too long again. Maybe it was time to back to the board, pick up another contract or two. His hands curled, gripping the railing a bit, and he decided that yes, that sounded like a good idea. Tomorrow (later today) he'd go pick out an envelope. He always slept better when he was figuring out how to execute a contract. It gave his mind something to wrap itself up in besides the woman who haunted him.

Speaking of, there was another distraction laying across the bed in the room behind him. He moved back into the doorway and watched her sleep for a moment, marveling at the way the fairer sex could seem so effortlessly innocent while asleep. Even this woman, a paid woman who'd probably known more men than sunrises, looked like an absolute angel while tangled up in the bed's pristine white sheets. Voda climbed back into the bed, gently pulling her to lay on her back as he did so. He kissed her lips gently and slipped a hand down between her thighs, determined to wake her and use her cries to drown out the ones still ringing in his head.

Petitions (if any): 
Why did this character became inactive?
DN went quiet.

What will you do to prevent this character from becoming inactive again?
Play him.

What are your plans for this character? He's going to Little T, Darkness help him, to try and keep Sheyla safe after someone takes out a contract on her life. He'll be involved in setting up a new situation for her in Kaeleer, and trying to survive having pissed off the Myos. WISH HIM LUCK.

Number of previous Reactivations: 1

Changes Made to Application for Reactivation Process (if any) : None.

Player Name: phinneas

Offline phinneas

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Re: Ciprian Voda
« Reply #1 on: Jan 19, 17, 02:01:43 PM »
Voda's ready for reactivation review.
phinneas@bloodrites.net  •  Discord: phinn#0798  •  Writer Tracker


Offline Dash

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Re: Ciprian Voda
« Reply #2 on: Jan 19, 17, 07:29:09 PM »


...And by Sheyla too. :)
Email: Dash@Bloodrites.net   Discord: Dash#6159

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Offline phinneas

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Re: Ciprian Voda
« Reply #3 on: Jan 21, 17, 09:20:41 AM »
May I please have a roll for Voda's non-adoptable Dark Ally, purchased here?
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Offline Dani

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Re: Ciprian Voda
« Reply #4 on: Jan 21, 17, 09:43:27 AM »
As per used of the non-adopted Dark Ally roll.
Weighed by Mother Night...

You've risen from the Darkness twice blessed with an uncut Blood Opal birthright Jewel, and were gifted with a cut Sapphire Jewel at your offering.

&

Congratulations
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Offline Dani

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Re: Ciprian Voda
« Reply #5 on: Feb 02, 18, 11:55:12 AM »
Congratulations!


Voda has been blessed with Advanced Death Spells.

You may add this specialty to this character's existing Craft Strengths section, with an accompanying Craft Weakness for balance.
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Contact me at: -email/gchat- dani@bloodrites.net -Discord- Dani#5222