She's quite the sight, if nothing else but for her deep blue eyes and indigo coloured fins that frame her face, followed by her snappy attitude before her face cracks into a lopsided smirk. Danggeum-aegi, or Aegi if you're pressed for time, was born very much blessed with the powers of prophecy. This was seen by her community, a small one in the mangroves of the Driftwood Drag just at the edge of the Sea of a Thousand Currents, as a wonderful thing. From the day she had her first vision as a toddler, men and women would flock to her home begging for advice and insight. Whilst her parents would rake in the riches by plying her powers, for Aegi it was nothing short of a nightmare.

See, visions aren't easy. It feels like cold breath and creeping sensation of pressure on the back of her neck before her vision goes black as reality sinks into darkness. The 'revelation' is a violent seizure. As a child she could not control it at all, collapsing and injuring herself often and even spewing up seawater at times. As such, she was miserable, resenting her 'gift'. After all it didn't even serve her, only the hungry and eager masses who couldn't care less about her health, nor her agency, nor her privacy. Her resentment would only grow over the years. 'Old soul' this, 'wisdom beyond her years' that. It's just that she's never even been allowed to rest.

One fateful day she had a vision that the silt of her home runs red with blood. Instead of being disturbed, she finds herself excited. But it doesn't come to pass. Not that day, not that week, not that month, not that year. Nothing changes. The pestering, banging at her door, the demands and yelling and the begging and pleading and the entitlement. And then she could find herself with a sword in hand she'd conjured from her own magic in a town stained red with blood.

Huh.

There's nothing. She doesn't even feel bad. She feels free. Packing up the few belongings she cares about, she takes to travelling across Sorienth whilst she works out what to do with her life. The prophecies still come, so she's forced to move on often, as soon as others work out what she can do for them. Instead she hones her powerful magic, learns how to hunt and cook, lets herself breathe and be selfish. But something's missing.

She's lonely. No matter who she tries to befriend, all they want is her powers. She doesn't want them, she never did. They're useless, pointless, they've given her nothing but pain. They have to stop. It drives her into a frenzy which in turn leads her to fighting a creature her brain can barely comprehend- she's even losing, when suddenly a man steps in and saves her. Her claims he can help her, though he doesn't understand why she'd want to give up such a potent ability.




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danggeum-aegi namkuhng ↠ member of mads & co. She's mid-word when there's a faint glow under her skin. It's soft at first, almost gentle, but as the overlay grows stronger it has a distinctly skeletal look to it that chills to one to the bone to look at. Her eyes go entirely blue, spilling over into what definitely isn't tears and stinks of brine. When she snaps out of it her lips curl up into an immediately snarl and she grabs the closest thing to her- a table- and hurls it at full force into the wall, where it collapses into a tangle of wood. "You've got to be kidding me!" she yells, "I don't even- a flaming demon horse? Why!?" It started the day she came into the world. There's no grace period before her entire soul is assaulted, her senses snatched from her, and reality robbed from her, for she was born with prophetic powers the likes of which hadn't been seen in centuries. Danggeumaegi- or Aegi, as she prefers- was born to a town deep in the mangroves of Driftwood Drag, where Shadow meets Water. Long ago her ancestors were cast out from the foamy abyss and took to the closest piece of land which could offer them shelter without being too different from home. Whilst it was silty it was still mostly sunk beneath the earth. Her ancestors were terrified of being run out of their new refuge and as such placed a great importance on prophecy. And Aegi was born with very, very powerful prophecies at her fingertips. If only that were the whole truth. The prophecies aren't at her fingertips so much as she's at their mercy. They come on much like seizures. No matter how many years pass, they've never changed. They do vary of course, but it goes like this: she's going about her business when a creeping sensation grips her. It starts at the back of her neck, like a cold breath and pressure, and spreads up into the back of her skull. Her vision blurs, then goes, the vision taking over. If it's a minor one, she stays standing, dissociating, and if it's major she'll collapse. If it's extreme, her body begins to shake uncontrollably. Unlike a regular seizure, she's completely aware when she wakes up again. At first it was distressing to the extreme. As a toddler she was a nightmare, constantly screaming and crying and not-in-this-world; as a child much the same. By that point the rest of the town figured out what was causing it. Greedy men and women flocked to her, barely knee high, begging for advice and insight. Her parents were quickly overrun by their requests. Even if they cared for her, the town was a rousing loud thing, and their status shot up overnight. Aegi's life, agency and privacy included, was therefore never allowed to be her own. She resented her gift pretty quickly. It never felt like a blessing, it felt like a burden. A terrible curse meant not to serve her but others, to calm their overeager minds and tell them of their futures so they could breathe sighs of relief, or make plans for terrible outcomes. The future can be changed, but most of her visions accounted for that too. Only those with the tenacity of the gods themselves could divert the course of their paths. As she grew up, her resentment would grow and grow. They tell her she has old eyes and an ancient soul, that it cannot be her first trip to Sorienth, and snaps her teeth. It's not that. It's that she has never be allowed to so much as rest, for even in sleep the visions come on. One fateful day, she has a vision that the silt with run red with blood, bloat in the streams. It disturbs her, at first. But then- It excites her. But it never comes. Nothing ever happens. No one comes with sword held high, no maniac runs into their town, nothing at all. Only the pestering, the banging at her doors, the demands and the yelling and the begging and the pleading for guidance. She doesn't understand the vision until she finds herself with a sword in her hand, conjured by her own magic which runs like a torrent through her veins, in a town stained red with blood. Not that she feels bad at all. She certainly expects herself to, but instead all she can do is laugh, and then cry, the tears boiling over with pure unadulterated relief. Her feet run away before the rest of her, taking her from the danger. For several years she travels about in the Tangled Wood, giddy with her freedom. She doesn't stay anywhere for long, for the prophecies still come on and people are still curious, and that curiosity always turns to ownership. Still, along the way she picks up other skills. She learns how to channel her powerful magic in other ways, learns how to fend for herself, how to hunt and cook with what she can. It's a good life. It's the life she never thought she could have. Something, though, is still missing. She can't put her finger on what it is. When she walks through the border towns, heading westward, she watches groups of adventurers at the taverns laugh amongst themselves as they share mugs of ale. Something inside her feels sour and corrupted. When she has a vision of most of them scattered across the desert nearby, vultures circling overhead, she doesn't tell them. As she wanders in the Wasteland, she hones her skills and adopts the title 'Knight of the Forgotten God'; not the Tidelord, but something else. Yes, everyone has always told her that her prophecies come from him, but how could they? It doesn't make any sense. She's never even thought of the god, let alone prayed or had any contact. That must be what's setting her apart, what itches under her skin. But even when she gives herself that title, she still- she still wants more. She wants to be someone who she isn't. That means she needs these visions to stop. They're useless, pointless, and they've brought her nothing but pain. They have to go. Her search grows frantic. None of the mages can do a damn thing about it, and most of them look at her like she's spat in their faces when she asks. How can you ask for such a powerful ability to be taken from you? Are you quite mad? Her anger grows. It's not anyone's business why. If they had these powers, they wouldn't want them either. She ends up storming out of most of these talks, spitting nails and cracking the earth open with water, stabbing through any poor souls who happen to be in the way of her war-path. She's still mad as hell when she walks right into a fight part way through, and watches- A beautiful man side-steps a swipe from a creature she's never seen in her life, which crackles with black fire, and then snaps his fingers. The creature cracks open like an egg. There's no vision, but she knows with certainty that this man is the one who can help her. Smoky Sphere Dragonmade A new pattern seems to appear each time it's viewed, yet it has never been observed to move. 53 Scary Storybook Trinkets The foreword indicates that these are best told in the dark. The black and white illustrations throughout are crude, sketchy, and haunting. Don't read the one about the neck ribbon. 47 Enchanted Remains Organics Perfectly preserved... forever. 47 ↠Trivia She carries her diary with her at all times. Inside is a record of every vision she has ever had, with the results of what actually occurred (if she knows) added on. Additionally, she carries a vial of water from her home in a glass pendant around her neck. Has fins and gills which dry out easily in the plague heat. That's why she carries the water around- she duplicates it in order to keep herself hydrated. When she fights, she summons her celestial sword from her body. It has the ability to cut through things which regular metal could not. That, and it's flashy, and she likes being flashy. She can use her prophetic powers as a psychic attack, though it takes a lot out of her. Depending on the mental fortitude of her enemy, it can either incapacitate or outright kill. Trying to learn chess. Not great at it, but very stubborn. Maybe she did have a few visions about it and wins some matches. Judah thinks that's cheating, technically. Is unsettled by Maddox because she just cannot get a read on him at all, but equally is respectful and a touch in awe. Really hopes he can just yank those stupid prophetic powers out of her. Ended up working out a lot in order to try and feel better about herself and her situation, so she's pretty dang strong for how short she is. Perhaps foolishly, she wants to get physically stronger than Altair. If you can't tell, she's competitive. Obsidian Minerals & Ores The glassy surface of this igneous rock shines like a mirror. 15 Obsidian Minerals & Ores The glassy surface of this igneous rock shines like a mirror. 15 Obsidian Minerals & Ores The glassy surface of this igneous rock shines like a mirror. 15 ↠Relationships with other members: Maddox: She owes a lot to Maddox and as such, treats him with perhaps the most respect that she affords anyone. That doesn't mean she doesn't rib him constantly though. Though friendly, she knows well that he's a powerful man who no one would do well to cross- staying on his good side is a priority. Cecil: Divius: Marcel: Tango: Judah: Altair: Marceline:

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