Standing at 6'4, Kovic's body is as lean as it is tall. Not particularly bulky, there is still a more than decent foundation of muscle built through regular physical activity and a rich diet. Face wise, Kovic's naked features are soft and delicate, in which his moderately high cheekbones, petite nose and a soft split chin make his face attractive both from the front and profile. His blond hair is long, although the sides of his head tend to be shaved, as it allows him to cut short on hygiene without sacrificing good looks or comfort. Because of this, his mane tends to be pushed back, very rarely leaving the intricate braiding. This choice of hairstyle, combined with the somewhat messy beard that focuses on vertical length, gives his face a stretched out look that is often describe as a borderline between 'beautiful, dangerous, strong and vulnerable'. These last claims, however, remain nothing more than an opinion, surely biased by the delusional and overly-attached women that drool for him.
Kovic's voice is a soft and delicate tenor that tends to border the limit between speech and whispers, apparently unable to reach high volumes. As for tone, Kovic's speech tends to be tainted by a certain amicability that often borders mockery.
Kovic's ravenous nature does not spare his body as his hunger increases. Whenever he is unable to capture prey, Kovic's body begins consuming itself in order to survive. His height is the first physical property that is affected by this, dropping down to 6 even feet, which is noticeable enough by his peers. If he has not fed himself still, his change is even more visible. His hair is consumed, just like his beard. Any muscle he holds is consumed, along with any reserves of fat his body stores. By this point, he is gravely gaunt, and a great detail of his body and face have turned plain, bland, and display a rather bluish hue. It is then when his organs begin their deconstruction, starting with the less vital ones like his genitalia, a large part of his intestinal tract, and even his kidneys. The veins in his body turn blue due to the malnutrition, and lastly, if nothing is consumed by then, Kovic dies.
This transformation from Nourished to Malnourished takes place in a span of three trials due to his extremely accelerated metabolism. However, it is important to note that returning to his original, nourished form takes two breaks at most.
Kovic often feels very lonesome when he is left on his own. Its not necessarily the lack of mortals or creatures what inspire this emotion in him, but his belief of him being one of a kind. The secret of his identity being impossible to reveal, as he believes it would get him killed, it is only when he is on his own that he displays the little personality he actually possesses. Without a role to play, his lack of ambitions, fears, hopes and dreams make him feel rather empty and inadequate, often wondering if he should simply continue his acting instead of facing that void inside him. By far what most drives him forward is his will to eat, reproduce and survive - raw instincts that he bases his life on, as he has known nothing else in his life.
Despite his young age, his mindset does not reflect his lack of common sense. Kovic has seen all the creatures around him as his livelihood, and the insatiable need to feed himself have never left any room for any sort of regret or feeling of guilt. Forced to be selfish, it is hard for him to show empathy for anything that happens around him, especially when his existence is not being compromised. Only in very recent times his first signs of curiosity have began showing, which Kovic still tries to understand.
Quick to adapt, Kovic's only desire is to find the role his peers need him to fill, and fulfill it. Being a dedicated observant, his lack of knowledge about the world he inhabits are compensated by his obsession to develop his acting by studying mortals. The way they talk, what they talk about, and when to talk about it are questions he has slowly learned an answer for, thus allowing him to blend in rather effectively - psychology, acting and deception being the main skills in his arsenal.
Because of this desire, need or perhaps obsession to blend in with the crowds, Kovic's entire character changes depending on who is he with, and how they react to his actions. It begins with a neutral greeting or approach, which is usually a response from an interaction started by someone other than himself. From then, his personality and character adapt to whatever his partner responds best to: dominant personalities or submissive personalities. From there, he chooses a random path and analyzes the response of his partner, often testing new approaches no matter how positive the response because of his desire to learn more about mortal psychology. Able to imitate a great variety of emotions, and constantly improving his act, only a keen eye can peel apart his facade.
No matter what emotion he fakes, Kovic is completely apathetic towards his partner. If they are happy or miserable means nothing to him, as he is out only for himself. This notion is reinforced by his alien way of dealing with mortals, which often hints towards a lack of understanding towards their nature as a whole. There is always something off about him, about his choice of words, or the way he presents himself, which continuously hints towards his manipulative and inner nature.
It had been, ironically, plaguing her mind for a while now. The idea, the concept… That vague possibility of success, of discovery. Lisirra knew the importance of trying new things, perhaps more than anyone else. Unlike others, however, Lisirra did not try to build large, bulky things. She did not built towers or cities. She only builds ideas and notions, and her bricks were so eagle would ever spot them. Germs were her bricks, viruses were her cement, and every idea she build, she did so with those materials. Brick by brick, she was building a masterpiece she hoped her followers would one day be able to witness.
The Immortal spun around in the grove, her white cotton dress making the young child stand out against the intense green colors of the fetid jungle she had made her home. And as she spun, she looked up at the skies, invaded by the pleasing sensation of her creations surrounding her like a blanket. The pestilence of the grove was like perfume to her nostrils, each germ having its own specific smell, each constantly evolving or perishing for one reason or another. The cycle of life and death was felt in the perfume, as from one moment to the other its fragrance had completely changed, never being plain or boring, but a constant wave of surprise she had never gotten used to. If only her followers could feel what she felt, though Lisirra as she laughed, her delicate feet stepping on the grass and flowers carelessly. It was true joy to observe just how one tiny detail, how a single foot, or a simple drop of water could be the difference between survival and extinction.
As she halted her joyous dance, a small grin escaped her lips, twisted in its very nature. A hum escaped her throat as she began skipping, away from the grove and into the thick foliage of the jungle. No matter her age or her nature, Lisirra couldn’t help but feel like the little girl she portrayed, innocent in both intentions and appearance. Few of her Immortal brethren understood her role in Idalos, and just how supportive she was of the mortals most of them despised. Even mortals feared her, most of them because they could not see the bigger picture, or the long-term benefit of her work. Whenever the word ‘plague’ was heard, panic itself spread like a disease, the weak of mind hiding and cowering. The plague went where the overpopulation exists, and it cleanses the land to restore balance to nature. Most who died were unworthy of surviving, and those that survived earned a portion of her respect, to put it in some way. In reality, their survival was meaningless for her. After all… wasn’t their goal survival? To accomplish one’s basic goal was not worthy of recognition – certainly not hers, the overseer of the great machinery that was survival.
Mages, however, were proving to be resilient. Although they fell to her germs and viruses, they did not quite qualify as mortals. Magic was a theme of controversy between her brethren, perhaps the main reason for the radical views that had started the war between them, but Lisirra had always seen it as just another factor in the game of survival. However, this notion had changed with time, as time had brought new ideas and many, many interesting possibilities. Trying new things was what she loved most, to see if what she crafted was good enough, or if it was meant to die and fall into oblivion. Even unsuccessful experiments wielded new insight and information for, so she would never quite qualify them as failures. They were just another test of an endless amount of them. Mages had to be tested, not by the mages themselves, but by Lisirra. She needed to know if they were beyond mortality as many claimed, if they were truly a challenge or just a false notion adopted by ignorance.
The jungle lost density as she advanced, and soon enough she found herself in yet another grove, in which many of her blessed followers experimented with test-tubes, breeding their own future infections and planning their next plague. They were lovely in their efforts, but few understood the consequences their acts would have. Lisirra was ignorant of those consequences, of course, but she did not dwell on trying to guess fate. She wanted to test it.
“Sophaya~,” Said Lisirra with her cheeky tone. “Could you please send for our friend Wailoo?”
Sophaya, loyal follower of Lisirra for many arcs now, bowed before her deity and quickly made her way through the jungle, as ordered.
A couple of breaks later, the so-called Wailoo arrived on Lisirra’s favorite grove, where she often stood alone either singing, dancing or merely napping. Day-time was far too valuable to waste it on ploys and orders, and instead left ruling for days in which she grew bored of the grove. And if those days grew boring too, she headed to some corner of the world and unleashed a plague or two, eager to see what results they wielded. As soon as Wailoo stepped into the grove, a small swarm of butterflies left the nearby trees, revealing their presence and their intention to protect Lisirra should Wailoo try to even disrespect the Plague-Lord.
Wailoo, a long time human follower of Lisirra and her doctrine, bowed on the edge of the grove before he proceeded further. Wailoo was a rather tall man, attractive in both face and mind. A blond mane hung behind him wildly, already damp from the humidity of the Uzkernia Jungle. Like some portion of Lisirra’s followers, Wailoo was a mage. The great difference between him and everyone else was his ambition and rather reckless nature that had so far given him the edge throughout his life.
“My lady Lisirra.” Said Wailoo, venturing a few steps into the grove before he halted and bowed again. “How may I be of service?”
“Wailoo…” Replied Lisirra, giggling afterwards as she imagined all the possibilities for the experiment waving in her mind. “You’ve been very fun, Wailoo. I like seeing your work in action.”
“Thank you, my lady!” Replied Wailoo, immediately after bowing once more. To receive a compliment from Lisirra herself was a great honor for him. “I daunt the day I ever let you down, my lady!”
“You’ve never let me down, Wailoo.” Lisirra stepped forward, reaching out to take Wailoo’s hand. As Lisirra approached, so did the swarm of butterflies, circling around the couple. “What do you wish in return?”
Wailoo was euphoric. To be recognized by Lisirra herself was like a fantasy that became reality. “My lady, I…” Pause. “W-would it be possible to receive your blessing once again, my lady?”
Lisirra tilted her head. “My blessing? Oh, dear Wailoo. You already have my blessing. You’ve more than earned it. Your projects have been fascinating to watch, and you always deliver results in the most surprising ways…” A smile broke her lips, eyes golden eyes staring right into Wailoo’s blue orbs. “I want to give you something special. Something I don’t give to anyone, but something that you’ve earned.”
“Somethi---“Wailoo’s sudden realization hit him almost like a punch. “M-my lady, I--- I don’t think I deserve it, but… If you…”
Lissira’s soft digit went to shush Wailoo’s lips, giggling at the man’s humility. “You’ve earned it.” She said in a soft whisper, almost inaudible by the fluttering of the butterflies around them. “And, afterwards, I want you to have it. That, my dear Wailoo, is my gift to you.”
And just as their lips touched, the jungle itself awoke, hundreds of thousands of butterflies storming the grove like a school of fish covered the ocean. This was an ocean in its own way, where instead of water there was life, and instead of fish there were toxins. It was there where Lisirra would breed an infant, one that will be a toxin from the very moment of its conception. In this green ocean full of fish, this child would be its shark.
1 Ashan 683
Aberration 30, Transmutation 30, Graft 30, Pact 10.
Wailoo was always an odd child. Born in some deadbeat village in Eastern Idalos, it was always believed Wailoo was mentally plain or suffered from a slight retardation. The notion remained the same until, by age 16, Wailoo flayed his first victim before escaping his village. Through some luck, Wailoo discovered what other called retardation was actually his bizarre and eccentric thought process which gave him an edge as he used domain magic. His crazy ideas worked, and his experiments reached new heights in the study of various domains, to which he attracted the attention of Lisirra. Lisirra approved of Wailoo's doings with Domain Magic, and not only gave him his blessing, but also supported Wailoo's experiments, which grew in eccentricity until Wailoo became obsessed, even recruiting other individuals of his own thinking into his own cult, the Genova.
His experiments mostly revolved around the study and manipulation of sparks, mortalborns, and the mysterious connection to Emea, which drained his sanity and pushed the limits to which Wailoo would go to achieve new answers. The day Lisirra had his child, Wailoo's experiments reached a new height, as he imbued the soul of the newborn with the essence of a spark, afterwards forcing Ether into said spark in order to awaken the full potential in the child - perhaps believing the child could be educated and raised like a weapon never seen before. After Kovic's true nature was awakened, Wailoo was smart enough to escape the premises, and when he returned thirty days later there were no cultists, and no child.
It is believed Wailoo fell to a great depression since that moment, and his location is currently unknown.