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Mar. 19th, 2012 09:01 am
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[ Player Name ] :Xenguin
[ Personal DW ] :None as of yet.
[ Age ] :26
[ Timezone ] : EST
[ Other Characters ] :None

[ Character's Name ] : the Disciple
[ Character's Age ] : Around twenty sweeps. (Approximately 40 years)
[ Series ] : HOMESTUCK
[ Canon Point ] : Seven to eight sweeps after the death of the Sufferer/Signless.

[ History ] :

Not much is known canonically about the Disciple, what is known can be found here.

The point in time from when I will be taking the Disciple is barely covered, consisting of a single sentence. After the death of the Signless, The disciple became a recluse. She spent the rest of her life living in caves. Writing the teachings of the Signless down, written in blood on the walls of the caves she spent her life in. Her years of solitude taking a toll on her mentally. She still remembers the events that preceded her seclusion, but most of her mind has been taken over by base animal instinct.


[ Personality ] :

As not much is known about the Disciple, for her personality we must draw similarities from her descendant, Nepeta Leijon. She can be equal parts; happy, compassionate, and carefree. Things that are practically antithetical to existence as a troll. Like Nepeta, the Disciple had to Exist in a world that hated seemingly everything that she stood for. Unlike her descendant however, she wasn't born in the wilderness away from most of troll society. Neither did she have the insulating moiraillegiance of a Highblood friend. So it was that the young troll her nature from those around her.

So then its easy to see how during her formative years she took a wildly divergent route then that of her Descendant. Instead of a happy, carefree young troll like Nepeta, the Disciple turned bitter and resentful of herself and those around her. As much as she hated what she was becoming, she had to keep it up as a means of self preservation.

Once she met the Signless, things changed. His teachings proved to her what she felt growing up wasn't some pipe-dream. As she opened up emotionally she found herself developing feelings for the Signless, and after awhile she found him returning her sentiments. The greenblood bloomed under his sunlight, developing the side of her that was forced to lie dormant for so long. She smiled more, she laughed with her friends. She found herself caring about those around her. She fought down all the social mores thrust upon her by troll society.

In love, she found herself lost to him, a completeness she didn't think possible. They shared a love that flew beyond the quadrants. It was a love so strong that her people did not have adequate ways to describe it. She found herself sycophantically willing to do what it would take to protect him. The Disciple astonished herself with this intense sense of duty to her beloved. She resolved herself to help him shine as the glorious beacon that she knew him to be.

With her emotionally stunted upbringing, the Disciple has a hard time getting to know and trust new people. It may take days or weeks before she might even consider talking openly with someone, one of the few exceptions being talking about the teachings of the Signless. Spreading his word will always be one of her truest delights. Once inside her circle of trust, She will fight fiercely to protect those that she views as her friends. She will always always have a place in her thoughts for those closest to her, like the Dolorosa, the Psiioniic, and of course, the Signless.

After the dark day of the Signless' execution, and her subsequent escape into the wilderness, she changed. The Disciple could no longer stand the Highbloods. Memories of the The Condesce and The Executor still raise the bile in her throat. The Expatriate, as he was soon to be known, allowing her to escape did little to stem this hatred growing in her heart. She now has this dark festering anger welling inside her. This font of rage inside may cause her to lose her temper and lash out at those around her.

The greenblood spent the rest of her life in the wilderness, living in caves. After those many sweeps alone, her mind started to degrade, taken over by survival instinct. She is still capable of thinking and reasoning but hasn't had to in quite awhile. Her senses have grown stronger, particularly her sense of smell. Her speech has become stuttered and coarse. The trolls eyes belie her dormant intelligence. She has honed herself to a killing edge, and is willing to survive at any cost. Notably, this ability to casually kill for survival parallels her to Nepeta, though the Disciple does not tend to share her Descendant's flair to be cute and friendly about it.

The Disciple has grown increasingly feral. Because of her heightened senses, it doesn't take much to startle her with the unexpected. She has trouble dealing with her emotions in a dignified manner. She dislikes things becoming too complicated, and may grow impatient with people who 'talk too much'. Without contact with others, her concept of a personal space has withered and died. This, coupled with her much heightened sense of smell, may lead to some uncomfortable moments.

[ Strengths ] :

Her strengths come from a couple of different sources. First off, she is in peak physical condition from her many years spent in the wilds. Enhanced Senses, seemingly endless endurance, whipcord tight muscles, Catlike stealth and agility. Her exile honing her into the perfect predator. She is also able to draw on the strong ties to her friends. Her compassion for those she cares about, gives her the strength of will necessary to pull through in even the most dire of circumstances.

Though buried by years of Feral instinct, she once possessed a large amount of mental prowess. This leaves her with the potential for an exceptionally sharp mind. Previously, she was once able to memorize all of the Signless' teachings and write them down years later. She was at one point skilled with writing and drawing, another clear connection to Nepeta. Though dusty from disuse, these skills will come back to her as she recovers.


[ Weaknesses ] :

Her many years of solitude have left her little more the a feral beast. She can speak, albeit only rudimentary. Her regressed mental state has left her unable to handle existence in a larger city. Here there are far too many sights, sounds, smells, and other stimuli. Everything will seem like a cacophonous blur to her when she first arrives.

Over the years the anger in her heart has blossomed, and it has given her a savage temper. This anger in particular being set off most often when dealing with Highbloods, or those that bear themselves in a similar fashion. The scent of a Highblood alone, might send her into a frenzy.


[ Other Important Facts ] :

She is being taken from quite far after the established canon (as little of it that there is). Her reclaiming of her sense of self is going to be an uphill battle, but one that I hope is enjoyable for myself and those around me to experience.


[ Sample ] :


The sound of a broken twig, lost amongst the ambiance of the nocturnal forest. For most, anyways; the greenblood had already dropped down into a wary stance. Her senses working to gather what they could about the abrupt noise. She strained her ears, but the perpetrator seemed to have realized its mistake; no further noises fractured the forests din. The darkness of night, and the deeper shadows of the nearby trees, her eyes were proving insufficient as well. Least fortunate of all, the troll found herself upwind from the source of her current anxiety. Smell was all but useless until she could catch its scent.

The Disciple would have to maneuver herself around to a better vantage point. She dropped low, barely off the ground. Her muscles pulled taut from effort, she edged herself from cover to cover. The troll's years of isolation paying off with utterly silent movement. Her movement took her around the side of the source of the noise, far enough that she finally caught its scent.

A wild, gamy musk. Hints of...fear?

Not Highblood.

Not troll at all.

Even after all these years, part of her still was still concerned with her uncertain eventual discovery. A tiny part of her relaxed. She allowed herself to think.

Prey; food.

The spark of hunger lit a fire in her. It had been days since she bolted down the last of her previous kill. She would take this one, she must. Instinct once again took over as she inched towards the creature. It's scent even stronger now.

A youngling hoofbeast. It must have gotten separated from its others. It turned in place, one final check for threats. Thinking itself free from danger, it bellowed a call for help. The sudden noise of its call cut through the forests clamor. Nearby creatures ceased their calls, a temporary calm settling over the area. The only sound that could be heard was that of whipcord muscles, once held taut, releasing. Snapping free like that of the sinew string of a longbow, loosing its missile.

Airborne, the Disciple hit the hoofbeast hard in its ribs. The blow knocking it to the ground, sputtering breathlessly. Once helpless, she made short work of the creature using fang and claw. Except for a single spray of blood now adorning her face and parts of the ground, it was a clean kill.
She hefted her prize, and with a minimum of inconveniences returned to her cave.

Now at home, she ate her fill, and buried the rest to preserve it. Left covered in blood, and happily sated, her thoughts turned to sleep. If she was to rest she was going to have to clean herself off. She started what was another usual post-kill ritual. The creatures sticky sweet blood still layered her hands and face. She set about the cleaning of her hands, first. As she raised her hand to her mouth it caught it glinted in the light from outside, sparking something in her brain.

She remembered, her hand covered in blood, writing something on a wall. Words of hope, words of equality, words remarking a better life for all. It was her, years ago. Words written in the blood of creatures. She wrote them to preserve them, but why? Another flash of memory, this one a moment of serene bliss.

A Face.


Wide-eyed with sudden recollection, she was caught off-guard by a strange smell. One of salt and off the sea. The Disciples remembrance was shoved back into the background of her mind. This new smell, one that did not belong in her cave, rushed at her like a stampeding hoofbeast. Her eyes darted around the darkness looking for a source, her nose told her was coming from everywhere. Suddenly there was an intense feeling of vertigo, followed by blackness.

Water. She was Wet.

She came to lying down, somehow drenched in saltwater. The Disciple was unable to remember how she got here. She seemed to be in some sort of city. A heavy fear caught in her chest. She shook herself awake to figure out where exactly she was.

"Where...am..." Her voice cracked from disuse.

Her conscious brain began to shut down as her senses were pounded with a myriad of information. The sights and sounds of this new place, hammered into her mind. Unfamiliar beings were all around her, some even looking at her. Her mind scrambled for purchase. Worst of all was the scent. With so many...things together in the dome it all compounded with the ever-present smell of seawater. These flooded her brain with input, until her animal brain took over.



Finally, she caught wind of a familiar scent. Trees; there were trees here. She flung herself after the scent, knocking aside anything in her path. Desperate for survival she attempted back alleys and other paths that didn't reek of these many strange beings.

She fled to the southeast.


[ Questions? Comments? Concerns? ] :

This is my first time roleplaying in this format. I have played in many pen-and-paper games, as well as live-action roleplaying. I hope to do a great job and am looking forward to this undertaking.


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The Disciple

May 2012

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