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Verdant dynasty

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Vedant Dynasty

Basic Info
OC Is drawn and owned by spooderqueen (Discord.), @verdantdynasty (Twitter.)

Full Name: Florentina Jorgenskull.
Nicknames: Flora or Flo

Titles: Butcher of Humanity, Pulverizer of Wills, Grand Inquisitor, Head of the Red Sap, The Diva, the Wise Woman of the Shell, the Tortoise Monk, Conqueror of Sandslout, The Golden Thorn, Vanguard of the North, the Brood bitch.

Race: Giantess (Afflicted with Were-turtle.)
Gender: A synthesis between sexes.  (She/Her)
Day of Birth: unknown
Age: 40​
Hair: Blonde
Skin:  Olive to Brown
Eyes: Malachite​
Height: 13' Default (Can be 6.5-19.5ft pending if she uses her powers.)​
Weight: 2800 Lbs​

Place of Residence: The Necrotic Swamp​
Place of Birth: The Boneyard
Occupation: Strategist and Grand Admiral.
Alignment: lawful good
Relationship: Married
​Sexual Orientation: Men are for breeding, and women are for romance.

Appearance: Tall, muscular, with flawless skin.​
Distinctive Marks: Birthmarks

Traits: Analytical, perceptive, well-read, faithful, dutiful, no-nonsense work ethic.​

Faults: Headstrong, Arrogant, cold-hearted, bloodthirsty, power-hungry, demeaning, and an all-around reprehensible being from a certain point of view.​

Her body is sturdier than a human's and isn't impervious to natural forces. Her forearm and femur can block war hammers and maces when armored. But the rest of her body cannot stand up to such attacks. Everything else but poisons will wreak the same havoc as they would on a person on Earth.

Distinctive Marks: Flora’s chiseled physique is her most notable physical hallmark. She is proud of her body and believes a healthy mind and vessel communicate discipline. Besides this, her abnormal gender is often noticed by others and ridiculed. She has long since moved past feeling any mortification due to immutable traits exceeding her control; the diva instead opted to transform it into a point of pride and not humiliation. 

TheRed Sap (Faction leader.) 
Verdant Dynasty (Ally.)
Eternal House (Ally)
Tribunal (Ally.)

 Traits: Well-read, disciplined, tactician, methodical, hyper-focused and career-oriented.

Hobbies: Researching previous battles, reading about history, poetry, singing, working out, hunting, cooking her kills, and using their materials to make adornments or clothing.

𝐒𝐩𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐧 𝐋𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐬: Jorgenite (German), Turzenese (Mayan), Mothench (Spanish) Common Tongue.

Habits: Florentina will work out where she can squeeze it in. She also likes to emit a cold and off-putting demeanor. She enjoys competing with others and makes a sport out of most things. She also doesn’t feel a compunction to obfuscate her admiration of others' physical features. The diva also enjoys drinking heavily.​

Quirks/eccentricities: She habitually clicks her split tongue or hums when doing her work. Additionally, she loves giving the silent treatment to others as she enjoys their squirming. Besides that, she is a prankster with a sarcastic and flat delivery of humor.

Likes: Alcohol, jungle herbs, eating, working out, hiking, hunting, tracking prey, studying people like their quarry, and sizing others up. 

Dislikes: Slothfulness, weakness, excuses, delinquency, fake flattery, deceivers, gullibleness and self-righteousness. 

Fears: She dreads returning home alone. Flora also dreads burying her fallen comrades and commitment when it comes to amorous relationships.

Strengths: Stamina, brawn, perception, agility, flexibility, survivalist, and martial arts.  Be careful when buying her a drink. Her thirst has caused many to file for bankruptcy.​

Weaknesses: She shows favoritism to Beastkin and sentient Monsterkin and finds their cultures fascinating. And her body is vulnerable to forces that would stop an organism on Earth.  She also has a soft spot for flowery girls who are bratty or considerate of her needs.​

Short-term goals: Making new gains when perfecting her body while keeping those close happy.

Long-term goals: She wishes to unite the Swampkin into an empire and save the tribal races and their culture from oblivion by standing and uniting them under a single great collective.

Motto: Agony is weakness being ousted from the body. ​

Secrets: She betrayed her sisters and broke customs to secure her station. Florentina consumed an ancient artifact to guarantee her place as the next in line for the throne.



There are several terms that others have seen fit to use to describe her. And while some are vilifying in nature, they hold a mite of truth. She is disciplined regarding her pursuits and devoted to her nation and its people. However, to her enemies, she awards no clemency and considers their bodies as temples to bear her gospel. This stringent lifestyle has gained her many compatriots and rivals. And while she mandates the utmost from those under her banner. The diva applies twice the burden on her shoulders. 

Unlike most, she isn't one to cower or refuse to lead by example. Unable to glut her appetite for power, she sees all defeats as a consequence of her weakness. While harmful to her social bonds, this tiger mentality has proven instrumental in developing her career. Within her mind's eye, the results justify the means. And as the jungle advances as a society, she aspires to hearken to the old ways. Many might denote her as a traditionalist, but she far from fancies herself a conservative. She fears that many are apt to throw out the baby with the bathwater, and if left unchecked, too much progress could produce unintended results.

Notwithstanding her muscular form, Florentina isn't a no-frills sort of maiden. She enjoys gold, perfumes, compliments, and secretly reads romantic novels. Flora uses her writing implement to pen poems whenever she has furlough. Or hanging with her kin as they descant, play instruments, and dance by the crackling fire under a moonless eve. Her voice has been praised for its range, as well as its angelic and mystifying qualities.

Nevertheless, she finds herself alone whenever she should retire to her nest, for it seems that despite her strength, encomia, and achievements. There is no buying happiness, no forceful approach to procure love. And what good is a conquest when you have no one to share it with?

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Only a fool disputes the truth of this world; to exist, one must ravage those lesser to stoke the fires of their ascension. Florentina was the runt of the litter, the last born, the least likely to transcend to her rightful station. Seeing herself as the ideal organism, a combination of elegance and ferocity, she couldn't accept this lot so easily. 


While most are content wallowing within their predetermined fate, this intrepid warrior endeavored to shatter the spine of destiny. It wouldn't be without ripping and tearing all sprawled across her path. The tooth and claw, the might of martial prowess, had directed her spirit. Those muscles were honed and developed to reflect the apex predator spirit contained within her vessel.

Peace is a myth propagated by fools, imbeciles who aspire to add purpose to what was a bleak existence. It held no jurisdiction over her cognizance, as each conflict brought her closer to the precipice. Blood, flesh, and bone were the instruments of her craft. Death; if it were an art form, then Florentina was a prodigy. The prey that questioned her might was trounced beneath that heel. Their households triturated while their threnodies toiled as quite the symphony. 

The universe is hostile, so it is impossible to rationalize through any other lens. The stimulation of death prevailed as testimonials that kindled her descent into the carnage. With each massacre, the monk found herself refining this timeless craft. For all of its presupposed adverse connotations, war was the indisputable catalyst on which civilization gorged itself to develop. 


What is it that guides her powerful blows? What voracious craving keeps this agent of the dynasty within that soon-to-be-shattered leash? That one truth, while hardly poetic, inferred guidance. That might is the currency of this world, and those unsuited were predestined to become bricks for that immanent transcendence.

Her mother cautioned her to think carefully about this choice. That war is a path few could turn from once taking those first steps. It bore with it a dreadful price that, in the end, she may discover she has nothing left to sacrifice. It fell on deaf ears, for Florentina understood a horrible truth. 

That life is conflict; the dynasty is conflict. The verdant empire is war made manifest, and that's why it's perfect in her eyes. She fights because that is what she was born to do. Most comprehend what life is only partially. They fail to understand the rudimentary essence of its truth, that it is conflict. She'll bleed, exhaust herself, and one day perish. That is to protect her people and her law. That beings such as herself must die in war is the price that must be paid. 


Yet, amidst the chaos of conflict, Florentina glimpsed a more profound layer of truth: the world flourished on a dichotomy, where the thesis clashed with antithesis, birthing synthesis through sacrifice and struggle. Through this pitiless cycle of conflict and resolution, she uncovered purpose, understanding that true power lay not in dominance alone but in the shared experience of pain and growth.


Her body stood as a deposition to this truth, bearing the hallmarks of the marriage of both sexes and of innumerable battles waged in pursuit of her ideals. With each scar, physical or psychological, she adopted the synthesis of strength and vulnerability, forging herself anew in the crucible of friction.


History shows that war is revered as the ultimate manifestation of power, she embraced her calling, assuming the inexhaustible struggle as the crux of her existence. For in the crucible of competition, she located her strength and the profound meaning at the heart of every battle fought.

The battlefield of life must be fought perpetually, and all will one day burn together. Ultimately, who deserves what is irrelevant. Those who prevail above the conflict come to understand and appreciate life more deeply. Their understanding matures, and that is purpose enough for her.

Vocational Info

In the convoluted dance of strategy and tactics, the tactician is the choreographer, meticulously crafting plans that dance across the battlefield with grace and precision. Meanwhile, the strategist stands back, observing the performance with discerning eyes, acknowledging the brilliance of a well-executed maneuver. Yet, not all are equipped to appreciate such artistry. The middling tactician, lacking confidence in their abilities, hesitates until success is assured. At the same time, those devoid of vision fail to grasp the complexity of the dance, their minds clouded by ignorance and arrogance.


Indeed, military leadership is a voyage, an odyssey through the shifting tides of conflict where each victory is but a fleeting moment in an endless sea of challenges. The taste of triumph may be sweet, but complacency is a bitter pill to swallow. There are always more adversaries to face and obstacles to overcome. Failure, with its harrowing lessons and humbling drubbings, is the furnace in which true tacticians are forged, emerging stronger and wiser with each trial endured.


Yet, as one ascends to higher echelons of leadership, the burden of authority grows heavier, each decision weighed carefully, every word a decree to be heeded. Few dare to challenge such dominion, and those who do must be met with swift and decisive action. Indecisiveness is the harbinger of defeat, and the weight of power can crush even the strongest of wills, leaving behind a shattered but enlightened soul.


The realm of alliances and camaraderie is no less precarious, fraught with shifting loyalties and covert agendas. True friends are rare, their paths intertwining with ours like threads in the web of fate. Yet, alliances are built on a foundation of mutual benefit, and when those advantages wane, betrayal may lurk on the horizon. The tactician must be ever vigilant, anticipating the shifting of turbulent waves of allegiances and preparing for the inescapable strikes of perfidy.


Every soul harbors dreams and aspirations; some whispered secrets are shared only with trusted confidantes, and others are laid bare for the world to see. Yet, in pursuing these dreams, one must be prepared for rejection and disappointment, for not all paths lead to fulfillment. The actual test of character lies in the readiness to endure, to face rejection with grace and determination, and to press on in the face of adversity.


In the crucible of leadership, there are junctures when authority must be relinquished to a subordinate, when expertise or positional advantage dictates the course of action. Such moments are ripe with uncertainty, yet they are also opportunities for growth and learning, for both commander and subordinate alike.


Greed, pride, and overconfidence are the pitfalls that await the unwary leader, enticing them with promises of power and glory. Yet, like sirens on the rocky shores, they lead only to ruin and despair. The wise strategist must carefully navigate these perilous seas lest they become drowned by their hubris.


War is a game of skill and chance, a match of wits and strategy where conquest hangs in the balance with every move. To the soldier on the field, it is survival and triumph against overwhelming odds. To the politician, it is a bargaining chip to be played at the negotiating table. Yet, for all its allure, victory is a fleeting moment in the grand story of conflict, a moment to be savored before the next challenge materializes.


In the end, the tactician's ability to adapt, learn from failure, and anticipate the ever-changing currents of war will determine their success. For victory is not won through strength alone but through cunning, foresight, and the wisdom to know when to yield and when to press.

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Segmented bone plates created from her victims or her lactation are placed on top of this inner layer of protection. The osseous material limits the effectiveness of blunt force trauma due to how bone will break and disperse the impact. The skeletal material itself is enhanced via her flesh magic, giving it twice the tensile strength of steel. While resistant, it isn't immune, so blunt attacks effectiveness is lowered by half.

Florentina designs her armor in a turtle aesthetic to pay homage to the Turzien (Turtle humanoid) loyal to her. The bone itself is notoriously difficult to burn. And given its tortoiseshell pattern and shape, fire and light magic will ricochet or bend, displacing the attacks. To counter this defensive aspect, one needs adequate blunt or magic outside of those two elements. Light spells are rendered useless, given how light works, but fire is greatly diminished. However, other schools of magic remain unaffected unless they simulate piercing or slashing effects. (Web thickness is 18 gauge (1mm), and the bone is the same gauge.) 
Flora's targe is designed to serve as a protective armament and a blunt instrument. She can use it to bend fire while charging or to break her opponent's bones. Besides her favored use of martial arts (Muay Thai,) the diva can also conjure a bone macuahuitl. To understand the reach and size of her shield, one needs to consider her height. A typical Macuahuitl has a reach of 47 inches. The agent is 11 ft tall, so it sits at a length of 94 inches (140 cm). Due to how scaling works, the weight is 4x that of a typical variant—sitting at 20 lbs or 12 kg. 

Unlike traditional Macuahuitl, the teeth of the sword club aren't obsidian but razor bone platings. Should the cutting portion shatter, the armament will still serve as a formidable blunt weapon. The targe itself makes up for the instrument's lack of defensive capability. Once scaled, the shield will be 47.98x42x7.5 inches. 

If Florentina fights hand to hand, her arms are covered in the web and bone plating. Typically, one's arm span from one finger to the other in a pose is equal to their height. So her punches have a reach of 5 ft 6 inches. Her legs (kicking) have a similar length.

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Strength/Speed.- Due to her long, powerful legs, the Giant can move up to 53 mph. (High-end athlete (human) on earth moves at 27.8 mph sprint. x2 due to her leg span as a giant, which is double that of a human.) And bound up to 13ft into the air. The Giant is robust and designed to support her muscular tones, curves, and skeletal structure. Her swim speed is 19 mph, and climbing speed is 20 mph.

As a result, she has the strength of eight that of her equivalent human counterparts, with a grip of four that of any race. Her punches and kicks are strong enough to shatter femurs. Can lift up to 5,800 lbs. The equation at the bottom of this page describes how her strength and weight enhance her punching/kicking attacks and grip strength.

Flexibility/Endurance- Her muscles/bones are higher in tensile strength, which has evolved to support her sturdy build to compensate for her being a larger target. Controlling her body allows the Giant to bend and contort her vessel unnaturally. In short, she can perform splits, bend her legs over her head, and other contortionist feats. Additionally, she is a natural climber and swimmer.

Martial Discipline- Florentina has been trained extensively in hand-to-hand combat, capable of grappling, subduing, or assaulting her opponents with a barrage/flurry of powerful martial kicks/punches. She often utilizes this to take the fight to the ground, mount her opponents, and bash their skulls open against the solid earth.

Another favored method is to strangle and shatter the target's neck. Fight first and think later served her people well in the Sands and the Jungle climate. Her muscle memory is honed through her decades of combat so that she can react on instinct. Her legs have a max reach of 8ft, and her fists 7ft)

Wereturtle- Amidst the tapestry of the esoteric realm, one creature stands as a unique embodiment of brutality and resilience - the enigmatic Were Turtle—a harmonious amalgamation between the terrestrial and the otherworldly.

Clad in scales as dark as the deepest abyss, the reptile emanates an aura of primal supremacy. Like obsidian, its scales glisten with an unearthly sheen, absorbing and caroming light in a dance of shadow and intrigue. Each scale, a testament to its ancient lineage, tells tales of untold ordeals. Yet, not merely its visual grandeur sets it apart, for underneath its impenetrable veneer lies an uncanny strength. The Were Turtle's snapper, a formidable maw, possesses a raw force capable of shattering bone with a single, decisive snap. It is both a tool of defense and an emblem of dominance, an extension of its indomitable will.

Unlike its earthly brethren, the snapper knows not the same bounds regarding speed. It defies rationalization, gliding through landscapes with an astonishing swiftness that misrepresents its massive form. Its mighty limbs, a symphony of sinew and muscle, propel it forward with an almost ethereal grace. It surges through the terrain, an indomitable force in motion.

Beneath that awe-inspiring agility lies extraordinary might - an unmatched lifting capacity. A single glance at this titanic creature might lead one to underestimate its strength. Yet, the reptile is a living incarnation of the axiom that appearances can be deceiving, with a stupendous lifting capacity of 7,000 pounds. Mountains may quake, but the Were Turtle remains dogged, shouldering the weightiest loads with unflinching tenacity

Combat Preamble

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Flesh magic is the capacity to manipulate one's cells. She cannot manipulate another's body, as their chi/magical harmonization is not the same as such. Outside of perhaps another bone gear (Depending on locational rules), she will be powerless to influence or distort another living vessel. However, if blood is on the ground, that no longer qualifies as being under the player's command. For balance's sake, blood on the body can not be altered in any way.

The exosuit she wears is defensive (Able to deflect piercing/slashing and arrows/bolts much like Plate can) but is mainly offensive. She utilizes it to explode the gauntlet (For example) or form new equipment from the material (Once the gear is extracted, the armor on the extremity is forever gone as it was consumed.). By default, the bone on her body and equipment is always at 2x the tensile strength of steel. Once an object is manipulated, it stays as such. A way to understand this concept is how the bending of metals works. Your character doesn't need to discharge energy to maintain the smith's efforts.

All buffs last one turn if not specified, the exception being bone manipulation for the reasons stated above. However, remodeling an item's shape forever locks it, as regular manipulation will considerably wane the tensile effect. One alteration is acceptable. Two means it's now just normal bone. Three or above, it will become brittle and crumble in her hands. The strength buffs are focused on amplifying lifting and grip; her punches, "Breaking bones," is naturally existing brawn, assuming she is hitting a typical human, unprotected outside of the femur, which is the most rigid bone in the human body.

Any such "claims" are subject to the opponent's anatomy and their capability to describe said physiology for their character. If she has bone akin to iron rods, her punches will no longer break them but still damage the body's soft organs and muscles.


Racial magic

Modify height- The agent can use her Chi to decrease or increase her height by 50%. This allows her to blend in more easily or boost her presence. She can maintain it at no cost, only able to alter her size once per day.

Bone Manipulation- The Giant can alter any Bone/shell Armor or Weapons by imbuing it with her Chi. Granting it the ability to be 2x tensile strength than steel or elongating its size and reach up to twofold. This Inquisitor can make minor changes like curving them, adding spikes up to three inches, or exploding outward in fragmented debris like a claymore. (100 ft long and 50 ft wide in a cone.) The scout can manipulate her milk, allowing her to coat the outside in Black and white armor from neck to toe. She can draw from the lactation stored within her large mammary glands to expedite the creation of the armor. 

Muscle amplification- She strengthens her muscles, gaining 30% damage but losing 20% speed and taking 30% more magic damage. 

Elemental Magic

The Snapper- Florentina can perform a palm strike and gather from any nearby earthen surface. She sends a 40-ft-long whip with a snapper turtle head at the end to latch and pull a target inward or throw them around. Alternatively, she can carry herself to safety, swing across chasms, or pull objects to her. The max width of this tool is 6 ft. (Metal does not count as Earthen. It must be rock/sand/soil.}

Foul Play- The agent will sweep her feet, sending a line of debris to blind a target. This trick traverses a max of 60 ft and has a total width of 30 ft pushing outward a thick cloud of dirt and tiny pebbles, removing the opponent's sense of sight and smell while displacing fields of gas.

Alluvial Dash- The monk slides freely for 60 ft via bending the soil to evade attacks or the inverse to draw in ill-prepared prey. When pulling inward, the area affected has a max-width of 30 ft. When sliding, she gets a 20 mph boost in speed. Targets pulled inward are done so at a 30 mph rate.

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The universe is adversarial. Its very nature fosters the amassing of power. Everything we observe is susceptible to this rule without exception—hierarchy, whether or not wicked, is observable throughout the natural order. Only a fool seeks to repudiate this truth. To do so is to profane reality while nurturing mediocrity. I believe two types of souls inhabit this globe: the hunter and the quarry. And while many might denote my words as immoral, there is no refuting the crux of it.

Influence, strength, wisdom, and creativity are never evenly disseminated. Instead, they're hoarded by a select few. There is always an apex predator. To be free, one must rest on the summit, whether it involves monetary capital, political stations, or might. Those zeniths are invariably coveted; however, few wish to grind to achieve those peaks. Most are content to reside within the shadows and beneath the yoke of thralldom. The weak subsist to stoke the one percent, and the one percent, in turn, must protect the grubs writhing under their boots. The dynamic is symbiotic, and it is a balance difficult to maintain. 

Like most Jorgenskulls, I spent my adolescence attending to the community's needs. My emerald eyes were filled with fantasies of joining the illustrious group known as the Red Sap. This enigmatic faction was the right hand of the empire, agents serving as an extension of the dynasty's dominion. Those childhood years were quaint enough, getting in trouble while striving to manifest my hereditary powers over the flesh. The fruits of my labor budded soon enough, albeit in the most trivial demonstrations. I labored profusely in secret as every conscious moment was funneled into honing that ancient craft. It was envy and competition that steered my path. To be more precise, with my siblings.

And while I couldn't match Bersia's expertise with a bow, I promptly identified her inclination toward martial combat. I did not want to settle as an imitation, so I invested countless hours into the arena. Outwardly, I try to persuade others how effortlessly my brawn emerged. The truth defied such fiction. But, if the third in the line of succession was to hold any claim to the throne, I needed to establish myself as a reliable asset. My mother, Valerna, regarded my potential and procured me a proper mentor.

I poured my vehement heart and soul into this dance for ten arduous years. I mastered my body, pushing the vessel to its limits as my agility, tenacity, and versatility continued to unfurl. One day, much to my mother's dismay, I enlisted in a tournament, hoping to catch the attention of a Red Sap recruiter. Within that arena, competing amongst my "peers," approximately two decades of struggles had finally paid off. One by one, those contenders fell to a barrage of well-placed, swift blows. The veracity of my fighter's spirit on display and that animal-like tenacity elicited the desired eyes.

Unfortunately, I was deemed too short and offered a single solution to gain entry. The Goatkin studied the AETU's unique armor, melding the South's ingenuity with the inestimable commodity of bone and spider silk. The body was forced to undergo a series of experiments, ingesting many tonics and drugs. My voluptuous exterior was shielded by chitin-like bone armor produced from my lactation. The suit became a part of this mortal coil, as the heart stopped and had to be resuscitated several times throughout my rebirth.

My evolution was temporarily paused during the human rebellion to the south, where I toiled directly under Bersia. While opprobrious, the turmoil of the South established itself as a fitting enough platform to promote my virtue as a combatant and officer. I eventually rose within the Special Forces' ranks, commandeering a position of jurisdiction, and once the conflict quelled, I retreated toward my original aspirations.