Meet Coil

Name: Coil Lenn

Journal: mortalcoiling

Race: Human

Class: Assassin / Cleric-(Necromancer)

Faith: Anoch

Age: 16

Height: 5'8"

Played by: Redpyre

Room: 303

Arrived: August 25, 2011


In a crowd, there is very little to pick Coil out as anything noteworthy. One icewater blue eye, unkempt dark hair falling wherever it may. Just another wretch on the street, carving out an existence while avoiding whatever eyes and attention he can dodge. He keeps to himself and skirts confrontation, doing whatever it is that he happens to be hired for at the time, working quietly and without complaint. A rangy and drab boy.

When you get him on his own, however, his oddness has nowhere to hide. The most obvious is his lack of a voice, of course, and the slew of marks-- too many for a boy his age, even for one who might have scraped his way precariously through life. Beyond the expected scars from battles and accidents, there is a particularly ugly set that dings up the line of his mouth in a few places, and a tangle of neat slices marring his fingers and hands wherever the strips of leather around his palms don't cover. Even the open, almost distracted, way that the boy carries himself isn't quite right upon closer inspection. Whatever it is, it's in the way he moves-- easy, but entirely methodical. There is an innocence to him, but his face shows the lines and shadows of someone who has something haunting him out of peaceful night's sleep. He can be expressive when communicating, but never smiles. Whatever he's hiding, he is so practiced at it that he doesn't even realize he's doing it.


When addressing Coil directly, he is attentive and generally obedient. Speak to him and he will listen, ask him a question and he will nod or point or jot down an answer, give him an instruction and he will hop up and accomplish it. His perpetual silence doesn't help him seem very trustworthy perhaps, but there doesn't appear to be much else going on behind the scenes anyway. He comes off as being an odd but relatively simple boy. Any opinions he shares are superficial ones, and though he is inquisitive, his questing seems to lack any real purpose or drive. Sometimes a little childlike, sometimes stoic, and rarely anything else.

When not being spoken to, however, Coil seems to become immediately distracted. His attention wanders, even if he is being blatantly discussed or spoken over. It's as if he couldn't be bothered with--or doesn't even notice--the conversations happening around him. He is content to be overlooked, he demands no attention, and this serves him well. Others tend to drop information when they think he doesn't care care, being ignored is what he is most used to, and it leaves him helpfully underestimated.

Spend a little more time around Coil, pay enough attention, and patterns begin to emerge. The boy is full of quirks, and he never smiles. His expression may soften, or a huff of amusement breathe voicelessly through his nose, but nothing more. He balks at certain peculiar things, but doesn't seem to realize that he should be unsettled by things that are generally considered appalling.

When he thinks that no one is watching, other things begin to creep out. He listens, and quietly measures, and occasionally turns a hungry or judgemental eye toward the backs of others. Underneath, Coil is all discipline. He has been beaten and tempered to a very specific shape, by both external and merciless internal forces, and he has never known anything else. His path was set for him long ago, and everything is does is for striving to fill that unforgiving mold. Coil is so honed that much of him has been cut away; control is so second-nature to him that it requires no thought. His upbringing has made him a master secret-keeper; his entire life is dedicated obscuring truths. He hides his goals and opinions from the outside world, and hides much deeper things from himself. Everything is packed away into layers of locked-up boxes. He has fears--sometimes crippling ones--and voracious insecurities, and childish wants, and horrifying sickening thoughts, but none of them matter. He was born with a purpose, and it consumes him. This purpose is the only thing that gives him any worth, and he tells himself that he has no room for anything else.

Most of Coil is the creature that his family has made him--obliviously heartless and unflinching when it comes to his goals, ignorant to what it means to be good, brought up under a shadow of desecration and hopelessness. And some of him is still a child, curious and wanting, eager to please, even occasionally able to see beauty in things. The conflict between the two destroys him, however. The self-hatred shreds him up, haunts him, digs away at the moorings of his sanity at times. So, he focuses on what he knows to be true and important, and damns the rest.



kickass willpower - pain tolerance, patience, focus




An illustration of this restraint is the case of his voice. He may be lacking a tongue, but his vocal cords are perfectly functional, and yet he refuses to use them in any circumstance. Up to a point of great agony, Coil will never make a sound. He believes that he has lost the right to his tongue, so--in his mind--this includes his voice, and that is all there is to it.