Amalgam
The Gossamer Blade
Amalgam
| Age ??? |
| Gender ??? |
| Origin ??? |
| Occupation Bounty Hunter (specifically, Magehunter) |
A whisper's shade, in gloaming dusk / whose shadow's aid now hides a husk
of that which flies on goss'mer wings / to grant the gifts that sweet death brings
'twixt light and dark, in places wild:
There walks the Amalgam.
Fear it, child.
— Old Atalusian Rhyme (c. 600 E.O.M.)
of that which flies on goss'mer wings / to grant the gifts that sweet death brings
'twixt light and dark, in places wild:
There walks the Amalgam.
Fear it, child.
— Old Atalusian Rhyme (c. 600 E.O.M.)
Old legends and tall tales speak of a silent, sinister walker in the wilds of the world. They go by many names across the tales: the Gossamer Blade; the Black Knight; the Undying Walker on the Unending Journey; the Mage Eater; and too many more to count. Each is, of course, as true and false as any other told over the countless years. But one name, beyond all others, remains: Amalgam.
Amalgam has been around for a long time. A very long time; so long, in fact, that they aren't even sure they remember how long themselves. But no matter how long their existence drags on, their devotion—and the devotion of Gossamer, their signature weapon—to their cause (whatever that cause may be; no one is actually quite sure, although plenty of the tales happily posit their own theories) is ever-unwavering. They have walked the world twice over, taking whatever great bounties suit their unknown purpose, and carrying them out with unmatched, single-minded efficiency. Were they not so efficient and uncaring for glory, their infamy would likely prove boundless; as is, they are more a sort of boogeyman, about which little is known.
One thing, however, is known with some relevance: curiously enough, whether thanks to their curious armor or by some other trick, Amalgam is said to be nigh-impervious to magic. Perhaps it is only fitting, then, that the extensive and ever-growing list of notables amidst their countless prey features some of the greatest of history's Weavers (and, if one takes an eye to history, often those who might have been considered to have been overstepping the bounds of their power).
Appearance
| Height 6' 2" (188 cm) |
| Build Emaciated |
| Hair Translucent, glassy white |
| Eyes ??? |
Little if anything can really be said regarding what Amalgam actually looks like; after all, the most that can
ever be seen of them is their long, stringy, translucent-white hair, which streams limply from the back of their forbidding helmet like so much spun glass. Amalgam is never seen outside their signature armor: a broad gorget of silvery steel and black leather spreads across the shoulders into a matching pair of small pauldrons, all lined and embossed with swirling silver filigree in abstract imitation of curled vines. The helmet is a simple metal dome over wrappings of black fabric, fronted by an eyeless visor with more angular silver adornments that evokes to the onlooker an image of the head of some merciless bird of prey.
Tight, weathered dark leather binds the torso and arms, framed by flanged dusksteel gauntlets and a small plate at each hip. The lower reaches of the garments give way to flowing folds of fabric in imitation of a robe or dress, though the ragged hem lies far enough above the ground to show the gleaming edges of pointed dusksteel sabatons. Within the form-fitting leather, Amalgam's body is thin and wiry, almost skeletal; an effect accentuated by their significant height. Their movements tend to be slow, and at times a bit jerky, almost like a puppet with its strings cut ... that is, until the moment they have a need to move quickly. For in that instant, they can become as a wisp of dark smoke upon the wind on a moonless midnight: swifter than the eye, and impossible to track.
Their voice is dry, flat, and curiously lacking in emotion or inflection, almost like old words on old parchment come alive; when they speak, it is slowly and deliberately, and rarely much above a whisper. And at their side, without fail, there hangs Gossamer: a silvery-black katana with an abnormally long blade. The blade itself is harder than polished starglass yet so thin and sharp as to be nearly transparent, and it cuts through the very air with the weightless swiftness of a butterfly's wing.
Tight, weathered dark leather binds the torso and arms, framed by flanged dusksteel gauntlets and a small plate at each hip. The lower reaches of the garments give way to flowing folds of fabric in imitation of a robe or dress, though the ragged hem lies far enough above the ground to show the gleaming edges of pointed dusksteel sabatons. Within the form-fitting leather, Amalgam's body is thin and wiry, almost skeletal; an effect accentuated by their significant height. Their movements tend to be slow, and at times a bit jerky, almost like a puppet with its strings cut ... that is, until the moment they have a need to move quickly. For in that instant, they can become as a wisp of dark smoke upon the wind on a moonless midnight: swifter than the eye, and impossible to track.
Their voice is dry, flat, and curiously lacking in emotion or inflection, almost like old words on old parchment come alive; when they speak, it is slowly and deliberately, and rarely much above a whisper. And at their side, without fail, there hangs Gossamer: a silvery-black katana with an abnormally long blade. The blade itself is harder than polished starglass yet so thin and sharp as to be nearly transparent, and it cuts through the very air with the weightless swiftness of a butterfly's wing.
Personality
Amalgam's actions give away as little of their inner thoughts and personality as their garb gives away of their appearance. A being of few words, they prefer action and efficiency over chatter and dalliance; upon receipt of a mission, they are like as not to have already long since departed while their compatriots are still busy wasting time and effort on discussing the whys and the wherefores. As in everything they do, efficiency is everything: if a conversation is not actively productive, it is a waste of time, and Amalgam's participation in it will accordingly be trimmed away like the useless fat it is.
Similarly enigmatic are Amalagam's motivations and the patterns of their operation. While rewards (such as money) are often offered to entice the notorious magehunter, they are merely thanklessly accepted without ceremony or seeming care, and often simply discarded soon after; many of the most expensive bounties are simply ignored, while at times they will accept jobs seemingly free of charge, expecting nothing, treating both tasks the same. Regardless of the pay or stakes, their word—once sworn—is inviolable, and they will complete the task at hand with single-minded focus.
As terse, inscrutable, and unfriendly as this can make Amalgam seem, they are utterly loyal to any comrades-in-arms of the present moment, as long as they're still even slightly alive. With an unwavering focus, an age that extends beyond even the possibility of entertaining youthful pettiness, and a dry sense of indomitable calm that persists through any situation, they often make for a nigh-perfect—if unsettling—leader figure of sorts; however, the chance rarely arises, as Amalgam is far more likely to pursue things on their own. That darkly single-minded focus and silent attitude extend towards their treatment of opponents: typically unworthy of a single word, foes are simply dispatched without ceremony and—if necessary—harvested.
Amalgam does have one particular quirk, however, that stands out from their otherwise almost robotic façade: they refuse to be referred to by any honorific in conjunction with their name, such as "Sir Amalgam." While numerous honorifics, as well as simply "Amalgam," are forms of address they will answer to in isolation, any use of the two together will immediately engender a curt, albeit polite, correction with no further elaboration given.
Similarly enigmatic are Amalagam's motivations and the patterns of their operation. While rewards (such as money) are often offered to entice the notorious magehunter, they are merely thanklessly accepted without ceremony or seeming care, and often simply discarded soon after; many of the most expensive bounties are simply ignored, while at times they will accept jobs seemingly free of charge, expecting nothing, treating both tasks the same. Regardless of the pay or stakes, their word—once sworn—is inviolable, and they will complete the task at hand with single-minded focus.
As terse, inscrutable, and unfriendly as this can make Amalgam seem, they are utterly loyal to any comrades-in-arms of the present moment, as long as they're still even slightly alive. With an unwavering focus, an age that extends beyond even the possibility of entertaining youthful pettiness, and a dry sense of indomitable calm that persists through any situation, they often make for a nigh-perfect—if unsettling—leader figure of sorts; however, the chance rarely arises, as Amalgam is far more likely to pursue things on their own. That darkly single-minded focus and silent attitude extend towards their treatment of opponents: typically unworthy of a single word, foes are simply dispatched without ceremony and—if necessary—harvested.
Amalgam does have one particular quirk, however, that stands out from their otherwise almost robotic façade: they refuse to be referred to by any honorific in conjunction with their name, such as "Sir Amalgam." While numerous honorifics, as well as simply "Amalgam," are forms of address they will answer to in isolation, any use of the two together will immediately engender a curt, albeit polite, correction with no further elaboration given.
Skills
Gossamer's Edge—So sharp and precise is Gossamer's blade that that which it cuts oft fails even to bleed for some time. Skin, flesh, and bone; a hair draped across it; the blades and handles of other weapons; the armor of an unlucky foe who foolishly thought themselves protected; all, to Gossamer, are of little more issue to slice through than the air itself.
Master of the Blade—When it comes to bladed combat, Amalgam is a true (albeit unorthodox) master. Favoring efficiency over form, they extract the greatest value possible from each and every movement. Each strike is measured with more precision than the ticking of the myriad tiny gears that comprise the interior of a clock and delivered in less time than it takes an onlooker to blink. Each swing travels the shortest possible distance from its start to its target. At first glance, Amalgam seems stiff and slow; and yet, their economy of motion is without equal.
Surgeon's Expertise—Amalgam possesses an intimately deep knowledge of living bodies of all types: how they are put together, what makes them tick, and exactly how best to go about taking one apart. At least a part of Amalgam's sinister reputation stems from their documented tendency to use fallen foes (and sometimes even friends, if certain rumors are to be believed) as "test subjects" in the wake of a battle.
Master of the Blade—When it comes to bladed combat, Amalgam is a true (albeit unorthodox) master. Favoring efficiency over form, they extract the greatest value possible from each and every movement. Each strike is measured with more precision than the ticking of the myriad tiny gears that comprise the interior of a clock and delivered in less time than it takes an onlooker to blink. Each swing travels the shortest possible distance from its start to its target. At first glance, Amalgam seems stiff and slow; and yet, their economy of motion is without equal.
Surgeon's Expertise—Amalgam possesses an intimately deep knowledge of living bodies of all types: how they are put together, what makes them tick, and exactly how best to go about taking one apart. At least a part of Amalgam's sinister reputation stems from their documented tendency to use fallen foes (and sometimes even friends, if certain rumors are to be believed) as "test subjects" in the wake of a battle.
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