Name: Fetil [fae-teel] Saint Claire
Age: Looks early 30s, rumored to be approximately 300
Species: Cuu Sidhe/Irish faerie-hound
Physical Description: Towering at six-foot-four, Fetil is a terror to behold. Though she doesn't look like much more than a tall human, and an androgynous beanpole at that, there is clearly more beneath the scarred ivory skin than any first glance can give. Her eyes are covered entirely in color, deep dark abyssal blue with a large rounded pupil and darkened ducts and corners. Her ears point sharply upward on the top lobes, akin to a dog's ears. The perpetual grin of mischievousness splitting her face almost in half shamelessly displays dog's teeth. Her inky mane, usually a voluminous mass to her waist, is wrapped tightly to her head in a french twist, adding a touch of severity to her sharply-angled face, accenting well the meticulous suit of a white dress shirt, dark slacks, and finely-pinstripped grey vest under the Armani name but eternally missing the matching jacket, a blue matte tie at her throat displaying the symbol of affiliations past as a trophy of survival. Her hands are gloved in black leather, a pair of polished steel-toed boots on her feet to visualize a life she tried to leave behind and seems to follow her anyway.
Personality: Crass, sarcastic, blunt, straight-forward. All good words to describe the facade-sane maniac. She has little to no filter between mind and mouth and will regularly give unwanted criticism. She isn't an idiot or a 'meathead', as most super-soldiers are referred to, receiving and using a decent education in her youth. She is also reckless and impulsive in ways that benefit herself, and will not hesitate to put herself on the line for those she is loyal to. Gaining that trust and loyalty, however, is a little more difficult, as her new bid on freedom takes strong precedence over her preference.
Furcadia Description: Tailored suits... Tall is a good way to describe this obelisk of a woman. Tall and deceptively slender. She looks human at first glances, but a number of visible mutations tell a different story: full-surface eyes as blue as the abyss, pointed earlobes like dog's ears, a head-splitting grin of a dog's trademark pearly whites. She wears a meticulously-kept Armani suit minus the jacket, a blue tie at her throat displaying a silver crowned-mobius pin at the knot. Her inky mane is pulled close to her head, adding to the contradiction of polished steel-toe boots on her feet, ivory skin torn repeatedly as a reminder of a violent past. ...And combat boots.
Job: Head of Security; Bartender
-One  eight-inch hunting knife with a gutting hook on the end
-Four  four-inch knives with no guards for ease of multi-use
-One  modified 'flintlock' pistol with accessible chamber made to fire with a full hammer and withstand the force of armor-piercing rifle rounds
-One  pair of steel-toed boots
-One  quick-reload Mauser K98 in a specialized locking rack under the bar
-Combat Expert: Having been brainwashed from the tender age of three to recognize herself as only a weapon and therefore embodying said reflection, Fetil is very well equipped to physically handle and subdue nearly anything that comes her way. What she can't do with just her hands and body, she'll let weaponry do the talking. However, she is prone to losing herself to the old hypnosis of sorts all Kriegzsucht were well-known for undergoing in the throes of prolonged aggression and because of that, doesn't always know when to stop. She'll have to be knocked unconscious or see the other party KOed before she can regain her senses.
-Form-shifting*: Though she looks mostly human, she is not. She is Cuu Sidhe, a faerie-hound known for having among the loudest voices in the Gaelic fae world. While she will use her human shift more often than not, she does have the ability to shift into the feral hound at any time she sees fit. This offers little to no detriment to her, as she was born with the ability to shift and not taught or trained how.
-Speedhealing: She has a very proficient ability to heal quickly. Smaller wounds take a few hours to a day or two to heal, larger ones a week or two depending on how severe they are. All speedhealing eats up energy, though, so she loses steam the more damage she takes. Which, to be fair, is a lot.
-Tank: She has the ability to take a lot of damage and deal a lot of it right back. It makes her seem temporarily invincible, but if enough damage is sustained, she will start to show fatigue. Krieg prized her for this and helped her refine it into something destructively useful.
-Speed and Agility: Another set of natural abilities that was refined for control while she was in training. She is quick and precise and has a penchant for maneuverability most people would die to have. It can be forcefully over-corrected if her opponent has the ability to do so.
-Strength: Yet another one she was born with that was honed over time and intense training. If she hits you, you will feel it. This ability also proves a positive when needing to carry anything, from people to stock.
Bio: Fetil was born to a proud family of Cuus what had settled the area around the southern Baltic coastlines eons ago. Unfortunately, she does not remember her family or any of her native peoples in any way at present. She likes to believe they were kind and good and loyal, as any good dog should be, faerie or not. As soon as she learned her first shift, she was stolen. As any curious pup will tell you, wandering away from home will sometimes lead to trouble, and trouble found her in the form of Krieg recruiters.
Krieg was notoriously renowned as a military contractor with their not-so-secret tactics of abducting children for their greatest project, Kriegzsucht. Kriegzsucht were elite mercenary soldiers, either inhuman or enhanced humans, made to dominate the field of private mercenaries.
Fetil was whisked away from everything she knew at the age of two-and-a-half years old, barely into her formative years. Comfort and consent were torn from her and when she was approximately three years, they stole her name and changed it. Fetil was the name given to her and outside of her number, it is the only one she will ever know. They used it to control her, since naming a fae-creature is similar to naming demons; a name is everything. She became their magnum opus when an escape attempt broke her back. Rather than execute her for her uselessness as she had seen so many others in the potential army go, they used to opportunity to run flexible copper wires around her spine, making her the antennae 'commander' of their army. It was linked into the intricate nanocircuitry of the barcode on the back of her neck, amplifying brainwave signals to be received by any with similar barcodes branded on them. The soldiers used this network against their creators' knowledge to be closer, to learn what they could of each other and comfort when abuses were wrought. All of their lives were linked and to Fetil, they were her family.
The world ended for them in terms of political strife. People stomped on and oppressed by those in power over them rose violently and threw the world into chaos. Krieg was, unsurprisingly, one of these groups that were hated by the populace. Having predicted such a thing could happen, they had backups in place and hid their prized super-soldiers in cryopods in a hidden facility with intent to return to them. They never did.
The facility was only rated to survive for a century. They had assumed they would be back long before that limit to retrieve their stored army and in their absence, the computer systems (once state of the art) started to fail. Shutting off banks of pods, entire sections of the army were murdered in their sleep and left to rot. The facility was eventually uncovered and Fetil was the last of what was supposed to be a four-thousand-head army. Her pod was not locked in correctly to its base and unlike her brethren who slept peaceful dreams, she remained conscious and aware when each bank was snuffed, hearing familiar voices die and being unable to save those she considered family for so long.
Thankfully for her, those who rescued her were kind enough to help her recover physically and offered her as much mental support as she would receive. There are still pieces missing, as to be expected, and sometimes she swears she hears the voices of her dead brethren in the eternal static of the antenna system still coiled around her spine. She's not sure when she left their care, still in a strange haze akin to mourning, but in her wanderings, she's come to terms with some things and settled.
How she found her way to Seika, she really has no idea, a blip in her memory she knows she won't get back. Though she drowns the mess in her head now with cigarettes and cheap whiskey, she is still a capable mercenary, raised for one thing and one thing only.
The bartending is just bonus knowledge.
Desired Personal Rank: Whiskey and Cloves
-Accent: Fetil has an incredibly strong East German/German-Prussian accent, given that the start of her life was done in East German controlled territories.
-Mental Instabilities: PTSD (no longer has prevalent flashbacks or violent upsetting fits, but still does suffer some night-terrors and occasional upset); Reckless Impulse (will throw herself in the line of fire to do her job, knowing she can take some hits); Prone to violence as a go-to for resolving physical conflicts (it's what she knows); Personality fracture with the feral shift
-Mercenary Work: While Seika is her baseline job, she is available for necessary merc-based dirty work, from commanding armies to assassinations. Just don't expect whole bodies if dead is required.
-*The Feral Cuu-hound: Her feral shift is about as large as she is in her human shift, to be honest. It takes the recognizable form of a Belgian Shepherd dog with surreal-y tall ears, standing at close to seven feet tall from toes to the top of its head. Its fur is really more like grass, a dark rich green that is almost black, and its eyes the same dark blue of the human shift with flecks of vibrant red, an eerie glow emanating from behind them. Its tail is unlike any other hound, stalks of weedy crab-grass woven together in an intricate plaiting knotwork from the base of its spine to the ground and coiling a fair length of three feet from there. There is always an incorrigible grin plastered on its muzzle and wickedly smiling eyes, traits to be expected of any true Gaelic faefolk, dog or not. Sprouting from its skull is a pair of elegant ivory antlers with golden tips, seeming to glow and drip with flowering vines, interwoven with a tangled mass of threads and strings in a rainbow of color, baubles and tiny twinkling bells. In its wake sprouts plants, like any proper nature spirit, and its bark is ridiculously loud, heard for miles around and a trait not often heard from the beast. Fetil is regularly NOT in control of the creature, a horrific dabble in dark Unseelie magicks as an inexperienced pup forcing its personality to fracture and split, so that even though she is conscious and aware of her existence as and within the beast, the Cuu is its own master and does whatever it wants. While comical most of the time given its penchant to be more of a trickster than anything inherently malicious, it is a hassle and Fetil regularly denies having any responsibility to anything the dog does.
_________________ Tailored Suits And Combat Boots