<span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: courier;"><strong>The Banished Character Sheet</strong></span><hr/><div class="floatright">(https://www.brazilianmalemodel.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/05/fernando-skinner-sixto-hombrebueno-ii-01.jpg)</div><strong>Character Name:</strong>Adán Carmesí<br/><strong>Inspiration:</strong>Xipe Totec<br/><strong>Nature:</strong>Pragmatic, Vain, Human-loving<br/><strong>Demeanor:</strong>Stoic, Simmering, Inquisitive, Blood-thirsty, Refined<br/><br/><strong>Faceclaim:</strong>Fernando Skinner aka Nando Skinner<br/><br/><strong>Physical Description:</strong>Adán's appearance is reflective of an ancient time in Meso-America when a people that had originally crossed the Bering land bridge flourished.  Having settled significantly closer to the equator than their roaming ancestors, generations had begun to see a higher melanin content favored in the skin, over generations slowly darkening it.  The epicanthic fold from those ancestors had lessened but still was partially present, a trait that only bloody conquest and interracial breeding would see an end to generations later.  Given the name of Yopi long before he came to true recognition as Xipe Totec by the Aztecs, Adán bears the dark hair and brown eyes of a people who had yet to see features in blonde, green, and blue.  The sum of this ancient and lost people, ironically, is now approximated by the influence of fast travel and globalization where bi-racial, tri-racial, and creole phenotypes reign supreme, particularly in those that arise from Asian, Pacific Islander and Meso-American coiuplings.<br/><br/>As a God attributed with rebirth, regeneration, and strength Adán has an athletic, muscular appearance that is youthful and rarely showing scar or imperfection.  His face is perenially smooth, a trait reflected in the Aztecs' own distaste for facial hair, and the various practices that they had for preventing it in males.   Adán is quite tall for Aztec standards -- one might say God-like -- at six feet tall, though time has caught up with him and now others stand with him, even above him.  Having long learned that he had to surrender his more... extreme tastes in ceremonial garb if he was to maintain followers, Adán still delights in the duality of either being covered in layers of fine, exquisitely tailored fabric or shedding down to barely any clothes at all.  He favors the scents of incense, grain, and murky metallic scents that bring to mind rituals now only practiced in his deepest memories.<br/><br/><strong>Personality:</strong>Though it may be redundant, or even obtuse, to state that a deity based on the cycles of seasons and life is a survivor at heart, well... it is still true.  Adán may not be happy with the changes that have come his way but he perseveres, often tight-jawed and unyielding like the warriors that once venerated him.  Lacking many of the trappings of his old life, he has become quite fond of luxury.  Clothes and linens made from exquisite fabrics are a favorite, and truthfully some distant psychological substitute for the more morbid guises he once wore.  Jewelry and metalwork is also elevated to a near fetish for him, the works reminding him of the artisian's that he once patroned.  Adán often finds himself frustrated by those trapped in the past, perhaps due to his affinities, or perhaps because so many of his pantheon refused to let go of old ways.  Though he has more or less moved beyond the wrongs done to his people, if something reminds him too close of the Conquistadores that brought down the Aztecs, his rage goes deep indeed.  Adán is often charmed by mortals, craving their attention on worship, and in return can be benelovent in his own blood-soaked way.<br/><br/><strong>History:</strong>The man now known as Adán Carmesí was amongst the first who originated in time -- at least, that is what he knows to be true.  (Though many Gods now claim the same,  he takes some pride in pointing out forms of his likeness were often venerated earlier than many other deities -- surely that must suggest his claim is true!)  He was born of the primordial, the genderless force of existence.  Though he first recalls murmurings of his being in the pre-Columbian people of the Yopi, the Mazapan, and Olmecs, it was not until the Aztecs that he felt fully venerated, spending much of his time engaging with humanity.  The Aztecs had names for his brothers:  Tezcatlipoca, Huizilopochtli and Quetzalcoatl.  They even had given name to that great primordial force before him, Ometeotl. Of course, they too had their own name for him: Xipe Totec.<br/><br/>Contrary to his likeness that was most regarded by the Aztecs, the man that is now know as Adán Carmesí was considered a vengeful, ruthless God in the beginning.  He was called God of Death, and spread great plagues and famine throughout the lands.  To know of him, was to fear him.  To fear him forced people to venerate him.  To be venerated was... well, bliss.<br/><br/>It was the Aztecs themselves that awakened their Xipo Totec to other ways of being.  Though he was often accustomed to fearful prayers and offerings made in his name as the death of winter took hold, he himself was surprised when he first heard his name spoken at the Spring Equinox.<br/><br/>"Why do you call my name?  This is not my time!" He growled upon the Eastern Wind, and the answer surprised him.<br/><br/>As the fierce warriors of the Aztecs fought for him, died for him, bathed in equal parts life and carnage for him  they responded:  You bring death, so there may be life, do you not?  Your winter comes so your spring may bring us new crops, new lives!<br/><br/>The ancient deity was breathless, puzzled.  Then he was not.  And so it was.<br/><br/>So he was reborn into rebirth itself: Xipo Totec, the diety of life-death-rebirth.  The people loved him, and as such he loved his people.  He lay in their elaborate and bloody pageantry, connecting himself to the earth, feeling himself wither and decay with the maize in the cold, only to be born anew in a field full of bountiful spring crops that his life-force was responsible for.  Though a<em>splendid</em>God, he never became a peaceful one, delighting in the violent displays that celebrated his name.  Those were the pleas that he heard most, and so those were the ones that grew strongest.<br/><br/>Entire temples and priesthoods sprang up in his name.  The metalsmiths nurtured a great affinity for him, naming him their patron and dedicating their greatest works to his honor.  He was healer and plague-bearer, death and life, and all was good.<br/><br/>Even the God of change itself, however, was not able to stay suspended in time.  The great Aztec Empire fell.  Strange people came from strange lands with troubling tales of morality and cosmology that challenged the Aztecs' own.  Under the fist of a man named Hernan Cortes the deathblow to the 'great times' would be dealt.  Xipo Totec resisted at first, he was not the only one.  The influene of these outsiders was an unstoppable force, however: Those who did not perish had converted, forgot, or simply shyed away from the great rituals that once earned the God's attention.<br/><br/>Realizing that the greatness was no more, Xipo Totec gathered with the last of his truly devout followers one last time.  There they put on a great and bloody pageant, his most beloved artisan forging him his armament.  Xipo Totec died that day with his followers in that final burst of frenzy, and Adán Carmesí rose in his place.<br/><br/>Though sorrowful, Adán resisted the urge to deny this winter of his veneration.  He took pleasure in those small places his name still got spoke with reverence, accepting that his true people were gone.  He adapted his own rites and rituals to survive -- for faith in him to survive -- knowing new sensibilities would not tolerate the full extent of his bloodlust.<br/><br/>And thus he was, for what seemed might be forever, until even his exile from the divine plane would come...<br/><br/><strong>Notable Achievement:</strong>Pre-Columbian god of death and plagues; Aztec god of agriculture, vegetation, the east, disease, spring, metal-smithing and the cyclical nature of the firmament.  One of the archetypal Sacrificial Kings: scattered his blood and life across the land so that the land and his people might live (King Arthur is a young poseur.)  He emerged from his tomb reborn countless times, a feat far more impessive than the single resurrection of  you-know-who.<br/><br/><strong><span class="bbc_u">Powers</span></strong><br/><ul class="bbc_list"><li><strong>BOUNTIFUL HARVEST </strong> <em>Though ascribed a variety of domains in Aztec mythology, Xipe Totec was most of all venerated to ensure that maize would thrive, and that there would be agricultural fruits to last through the colder months, those times when even meats were more scarce.   The various, often gory rites made one thing symbolicly clear: Xipe Totec's body and that of the land were at times one, a symbolic relationship with very practical application.  Though these ancient rites are no longer practiced, the God's flesh still awakens the firmament in vivid ways.  By fertilizing the earth around a plant with his blood, Xipe Totec can bring dying plants to health, and bestow healthy plants the gifts of bountiful yields.  The blood of Adán spent is in relation to the task at hand: though it would only take a pin prick and a few small drops to see some potted and dying Geraniums become a Grandmother's pride, the dagger wounds (to say nothing of the pain, and blood) necesarry for Adán to fertilize a modern farmer's crop field would be an exhaustive expenditure.</em></li><li><strong>SACRIFICIAL KING</strong> <em>You don't get to hold the position of Xipe Totec with a fragile constitution.  Though perhaps the sacrifices made in his honor grab the attention, it should not be missed that what was done to mortals ran paralell to the acts Xipe Totec visited upon himself to perform his magic.  Believed to be made of precious metals beneath his first layer of skin, Xipe Totec has a physical fortitude that is notable even among deity standards.  His endurance is borne from regeneration as opposed to hardened or unbreakable characteristics: cuts heal and scars fade from his skin within minutes to hours, and his blood flow is only on the proper side of finite. Even deeper tisses and bone can be rejuvenated if he is laid to rest for days covered in ritual fabrics symbolic of his more infamous and retired garbs.  That is, of course, not to say that he has found a way to escape undoing.  Even when it comes to reperation of wounds, there are certainly some forces out there that could suffocate his regeneration altogethrer.  If one believes otherwise they have certainly not met poor dear Achilles, Baldur, and other Gods that tragically put faith too much faith in their powers of fortitude.<br/></em></li><li><strong>PATRON OF ARTISIANS</strong> <em>Perhaps when it is believed that your core is made of precious metal, artisians will inevitably develop an affinity for you.  Regardless, as he was venerated on high by metalsmiths in the Aztec world, it is perhaps natural that Xipo Totec dedicated a portion of his power to those artisians in return.  If the artisian's chose craft involves working with metal, gemstone, wood, or glass, Xipo Totec may bestow the powers of both divine inspiration and creation upon them.  Such Godly gifts granted to a mortal are not without their price, though.  The ritual begins with Adán slicing through the meat of each of the artisian's palms with an obsidian dagger, causing them to well with blood.  From there, the artistian may begin their work.  As the artisian's blood drips upon even the most meager of crafting materials, those materials are transformed into the highest form of what is needed for their masterpiece: chalk and limestone can transmute in their hands to gold and pearls.  A cheap forging hammer can feel world-class and custom-made.  The mortal's work will be exquisite, likely deemed flawless by many critics... if they finish at all.  By temporarily granting the mortal a sliver of his divinity, after all, they must appease magic with flesh just as the Aztec God does.  The wounds made to their palms will not stop, clot, or even cauterize as they work.  Though the pain or strain of work will not hinder their process, the deeper they pull from the creative well of the Gods, the greater that pain will be felt.  The artisian may not stop to eat, sleep, or have a reprieve from the pain.  Their only relief is seeing their masterwork to it's completion, where the wounds will draw to a close so they may recover... the alternative is them slumping over, ex-sanguinated and lifeless from the failed process.</em></li></ul><br/><strong><span class="bbc_u">Armament of Divinity: Tlatlauhqui Tezcatlipoca Tecpatl (Push-Dagger forged of Red Smoking Mirror)</span></strong><br/><em>Deeply associated with blood-soaked obsidian in Aztec culture, Xipe Totec was far from a gentle God to them.  Though his particular tastes in rituals were... well, quite distasteful to a game on the bondage board (but can always be looked up for those of adequate curiosity and constitution,) he was ultimately worshipped and celebrated by his people.  Times change... crusades come, conquerors with strange weapons invade, and books preaching new religions and morality replace the values that once seemed a constant.  Xipe Totec eventually faced the truth that his elaborate rituals would be no more, and if he was to maintain any relevance at all to the mortal word he would need to adjust his extravegant expectations.  Still, he was not to walk away without a relic from his most celebrated time and his most beloved people.  He gathered the last of his true followers for a final great ritual, having his best artisian forge a weapon from volcanic glass that is permanently stained with streaks of red, holding relics of that final revelry.  Now that dagger is even sacred to a God, a node of memory (and subsequent power,) that connects the lost Adán to the full force of his past as Xipe Totec.</em><br/><br/><ul class="bbc_list"><li><strong>PLAGUEBEARER (Aka Old Habits)</strong> <em>Unlike some of his peers, Adán has adopted a sort of mutable response to the changing times, and rarely anymore grudgingly looks back in narrow mourning to what he once had and lost.  Rarely.  The Aztecs helped shift his aspect from a vengeful plague god, and when he holds his prized Tecpatl he can transmute his sorrow into the scorn that he once solely wore.  The casting of this blood magic requires a vector of either food or water for his focus.  Though it can be of any size, any magic within it tapers off beyond the size of what might sustain a small village.  There Adán cuts into his skin thinking only of the grief, rage, and sorrow that he has swallowed down for centures.  His blood comes out thick and black as crude oil, cursing the source.<br/><br/>In the following days, at least one (though possibly several more,) who use the magical vector as a source of nourishment will come down with an ancient affliction, usually communicable and often disabilitating or deadly in nature.  Adán has no control over who is afflicted or the exact nature of the curse, though some more common symptoms may be boils, pustules, blindness, and inability to digest food or water.  While not immune to modern medicine per se, these diseases are ancient in nature, and often any genetic resistance or vaccines against them have long become archaic.<br/><br/>Though Adán may lift the curse of the supply by cleansing it with blood unfettered with hate, this does not in any way 'take back' damage already done.  No disease that he has created has every affected deities, though there is a tragic first time for everything.  (Note:  As a player-used ability this would be referenced in affecting mortals only.  Any chance that it might affect a deity would be solely a GM intervention with no player input unless asked.)</em></li><li><strong>COMMUNION</strong> <em>Just as Adán has learned to channel his sorrow for the past by using his armament  forged on the last great day of his veneration, he may also use it to rekindle the benevolence that shifted him from a god of death to one that governs the cycles of life-death-rebirth.  In this way he may, albeit temporarily, share a part of his great regeneration abilities with a wounded being, be it human, animal, or deity.  In concrete terms this will cleanse his chosen target of any illness that has not been handed out as an affliction directly from a God (though there is a chance it might work then, it is untested and unknown.)  He may additionally see that the target's recovery ability increases roughly to half of his own.  The effect ends when the target has recovered, passed away, or the wound is otherwise unrepairable or locked in stasis; until this time, Adán's own regeneration abilities are compromised by half as his essenc intermingles with the wounded.<br/><br/>In order to perform the rite  Adán must first sympathetically cut a place upon his body that is sympathetic with the wound that he is attempting to heal.  There through contact with an open sore or ingestion, he must see that the target accepts his vitality into their being.<br/><br/>Of important note is that this power does not prevent or delay another from dying through the natural cycle of old age.  Even in the remote case such a thing was attempted, the consequences would likely be dire indeed due to it subverting the entire nature of a life-cycle based deity.</em></li></ul>