Information
Advisor the Naphal
Vaticinate_966
Legacy Name: Vaticinate_966
The
Reborn LainOwner:
Meat_608Age: 13 years, 1 month, 6 days
Born: March 27th, 2011
Adopted: 13 years, 1 month, 6 days ago
Adopted: March 27th, 2011
Statistics
- Level: 86
- Strength: 216
- Defense: 215
- Speed: 192
- Health: 207
- HP: 195/207
- Intelligence: 150
- Books Read: 150
- Food Eaten: 0
- Job: Manager
Nickname: Nate
Occupation: Pastry-Chef
Hobbies: Mallet-wielding, Baking
Nate, an insomniac. A wretch, both blessed and cursed to see the worst possible outcomes for each new day. He is equipped with the power to see and change the future, to bend the fabric that holds fate together, to tear it apart, to mend it, or to change it completely. However, these visions of what could be are not always what will be. He lives an eternal struggle to keep watch over the current arc's events, and to keep it as peaceful as possible. Balanced. He shoulders this responsibility without the aid of others, and with the inability to shrug it off.
He sees the possibilities at night, while he sleeps. He dreams terrible dreams, nightmares that evoke night-terrors. They grip him as he wakes, gasping for breath, struggling to pry imagination from reality, wakefulness from sleep. Often refusing to succumb to the constant threat of horrors that terrorize him, he instead turns his attention to baking, and does so through the night. The prophet is only able to find comfort in a naive belief;
"Pastries will make those around me feel happier, more at ease, and slower to anger," he reassures himself. Contemplates the simplicity. Believes in it.
He dusts the counter-tops with flour and fills the kitchen with heat and aroma. His movements are swift, and are that of firm knuckles kneading into dough, of measuring with the ease of practiced eyes, and of the instinctual passion for creating a taste that has not yet been tested. He would create and maintain a sweet reality, one of compassion and distraction.
And if that won't work, he still has his mallet.
For further character information, visit: https://charahub.com/character/120824/Vaticinate/public/ .
Oh, did you think that's all that was left? No, it would be nice if we could leave it at that. But it's not.
Nickname: Vatici
Occupation: Oracle
Hobbies: Tea, Theoretical Combat
Vatici, an oracle. A psychic, blessed to see the dead and to communicate with the gods. She is equipped with the power to see and to listen, to aid goodwill or warn of misdemeanors, simply with a flourish of her lips, with a whsiper of her voice. However, this does not give her power, for she is weak, and can only communicate her best intentions to those that are alive and well. She lives an eternal struggle to keep watch over her signs and readings, and to keep life as peaceful as possible. Balanced. She shoulders this responsibility with the inability to shrug it off.
Her readings are done through crystal and tea, the sun and the wind. She envisions the gods, and dead lost souls. At night, she pries into the minds of the dead, into the dying, hoping to guide them along their way. They grip onto her as she weakens, gasping for breath, begging for life. But this is beyond her power, and she continues to fulfill the responsibilities of an oracle. Often accepting the strangeness of the psychic black void, the prophet is only able to find comfort in a naive belief;
"Maybe someone will return the favour for me, should I ever become lost," and the thought reassures her. She believes in it. She needs to, because she was born weak, and she is dying.
She pries into the thoughts of one dreaming boy. His thoughts are blank, and are that of someone troubled, but apathetic towards his own well-being, concerned only about something no one else understands, no one but her. He would create and maintain a sweet reality, one of compassion and distraction. But he was tired, and he was lost. He needed her. She aided him, spoke in his dreams through images and promises. And through this bond, they were united. When they died, they were born once more, reincarnated to protect the masses, through any means necessary.
And thus, they are reborn as one.
Pet Treasure
Blue Midnight Cookie
Gold Midnight Cookie
White Midnight Cookie