Scylla

Name: Scylla Use it, don't abuse it. Hair: Ocean-blue mane. Thick, tangled and lots of volume. Lots of 80's hair metal vibes. Height/Weight: 6'8"/240lbs. Tall and lanky. Medium muscle mass. Metal appendages and prosthetics with weight-saving material. Race/Class: Galeacoma/Artisan Humanoid race of mammalian creatures following the Homo Sapiens genus. They are best known for their growth of bio-metals upon their bodies. Leading to each individual to possess their own personal and unique physical image. As an Artisan, Scylla is skilled primarily in creative labor. Working best with metal and chemicals, the possibilities can be both beautiful and dangerous. What may she make for you? Complexion: Pale, velvety skin Fuzzy like a peach, soft like a marshmallow. Likes: Shiny objects, swimming, solitary wonder

Sexuality: Bisexual, relationship anarchist. Scylla could swing both ways, but has no preference. As a relationship anarchist there is no real way to nail her down and it's best not to try. Age: 42 DOB: January 22, 1980. Aquarius. Rising Libra, Moon Aries. Sex: Female Alignment: Chaotic Neutral Scylla will follow what she feels is right before obeying rules around her. Language: Common, Rrussian, Alemans Despite growing up within Prussia, Scylla prefers to speak Common. Mostly to avoid her relation and trauma to the area, but the accent is easy to pick out. Alemans was also necessary to speak with the more of her fellow kind. Sharp and direct, Scylla also tends to avoid using contractions so her point gets across without error. Eyes: Radiant yellow Personality: Mysterious, Withdrawn, observant, social aversion Textbook introvert. Strictly business. She does not like to mingle in large groups or draw too much attention to herself. Her appearance and prosthetics does that well enough on its own. If she must humor someone, she'll stick it out as best she can till she is able to leave at the first opportunity. However Scylla has no issues chewing someone up for wasting her precious time. You're not allowed to watch her, only she can watch you and she will be quick (and sometimes violent) to let you know how she feels.

A shattered metallic mask adorns this woman's face, carving towards the ocean blue mane that graces her rear.
Golden blades formed in symmetrical pairs would complete not only the wings on her back, but also smaller ears behind her face.
Her silk-white body usually skimped out on luxurious attire and instead opted on a set of spandex activewear top and shorts to cover her assets. The climate allowed it, so why not? It wasn't just for comfort, but also a statement. With a mixture of carbon fiber and ceramic plating, all of Scylla's limbs were replaced and strapped in by prosthetics of varying degree. She had the full package and she wanted people to know about it.

[*]Scylla has taken refuge in low-town Los Paraiso. Sharing the home of Calamity Umbra.

[*]Scylla has joined the Les Femme De Limbo. An organization centered around the protection and rehabilitation of displaced women from trafficking and slavery. Scylla works as a moon-lighting prostitute, much to her own detriment. She awaits a higher calling...

[*]Scylla's current workload capacity is at 25% due to limited space. She can only make basic repairs and limb swapping.

[*]Scylla has no current injuries.

[*]Scylla has no current love interests. However has conflicted feelings for several individuals.

Scylla has pioneered a new, golden age of prosthetic replacement. Keeping her limbs for her own personal use.
While she cannot manufacture on a mass-scale, with enough time and proper tools, new limbs can be produced at a steady rate.
But how do they work? Is it truly a prosthetic or a cybernetic replacement? Can others ever use them?

The secret is actually due to her abusive benefactors contribution to replacing the limbs he took from her. Amputated sections of Scylla's body were fitted with crude, mechanical locks so he could have Scylla dress up in various artistic limbs he had commissioned before the woman took to making her own. Working off the prototype, Scy would develop a new neuro-electrical mechanism. Dubbed the Omni-point, the woman's body could be outfitted with more complex prosthetics that could also be hot-swapped as the need arises. There is no external power sources involved as the unique physiology of the Galeacomian woman actually fuels her limbs through the bodies natural metabolic system. That extra current generated also means the woman requires a steady intake of calories to keep herself properly juiced, without it the current stabilizes and Scy will grow sluggish as her body starts going in to shock from the energy drain.

The limbs themselves do not even carry any electrical current. The Omni-point itself works like a mechanical key, firing pins in to patterns built in to the 'locks' of whatever prosthetic limb Scylla chooses to control, which is translated as movement. A direct improvement over the traditional prosthetic which relies on rehabilitated tendons to flex and relax to maintain proper motions or grip. Which may or may not be missing from previous accidents. Which is to say- any person that Scylla may grace with her invention would need to have an Omni-point permanently grafted to their flesh in order to function. Though results may vary if their body can not handle the taxing cost of maintaining the limbs needs. And the more replacements one needs, the more taxing the experience. Inquire at your own risk.

CONTENT WARNING: DEATH AND DISMEMBERMENT, SEXUAL ASSAULT

Born in 1980 within the brutal streets of Prussia. Scylla and her twin brother, Charybdis were promptly left as wards of the state following the death of their mother. As a child, Scylla experienced a life mandated by limits imposed by a society that sought to expel the weak from the strong. It was already bad enough that a Galeacomian child was in the mist of typical furre species of the Old Worlde, but they were not ready to meet an apex predator in the making. Beatings and starvation, Scylla had to endure a lot on her own no thanks to her brother whom was growing quickly accustomed to the toxic abuse by exposing his violent tendencies. The poor girls plating hadn't even fully grown in yet to protect her own head from the lashings inflicted not only by others, but her only family.

No matter who walked through the doors at her institution, Scylla was always passed for adoption. No one wanted a child they had to possibly hide away from their peers. No one wanted an abnormal child. It would be years before Scylla could achieve any semblance of independence. Her adult years were arriving and she'd be released. At this point Scylla's metals had fully grown and her mask was complete, despite the undernourishment she had endured all this time and that was her time to finally strike.

Dinner time. Cold soup and bread. What more could she ask for than to be left alone and finally eat? Not tonight.
A young bear and his triage of bullies known for their antics and theft approached Scylla hiding in her corner. They wanted her food. They always wanted her food, but not tonight. For the first time her golden eyes lifted and she looked at her enemies with disdain thru her mask and she muttered the words she's been craving for so long. "No." Her soon-to-be assailants laughed, as if this girl had a choice. Wrong.
The moment the bear reached for her bowl Scylla swiftly lunged her head, snapping her jaws on his hand and bit down with all her might. The young male would cry, but Scylla never let go no matter how hard he thrashed. Striking her face with his other fist only resulted in broken knuckles.

She had finally gotten a taste for blood. The warmth oozing down her throat. Ligaments and bone crunching under her jaw. Adrenaline pumping so hard she could feel it beat in her ears. Her body craved this nourishment now and forever. And with a simple twist and pull- the bladed edge of her face tore the boys hand clean off to disappear down her gullet. She wasn't finished. She need MORE. Before she could lunge for another victim she was promptly struck in the head with a chair, knocking her clean out. This was a serious crime, but as a ward it was clear that within her environment she had to fend for herself. The institution knew this, but as a consequence she was forced to leave. Once Scylla recovered she was escorted out the doors of the only home she knew with explicit instructions to not attack any more furre's as this practice is outlawed and may have more dire consequences for her as an adult. She agreed and took to the streets. Despite being in the cold, it was the warmest she felt in years.

However- the streets were no place for a young woman and Scylla found that out the hard way. It was hard time finding work and even if she could, it never did last long. Scylla had to start resorting to less than reputable sources for income, even at the expense of selling her own body. Not that it was difficult. Every degenerate wanted a piece of exotic strange they otherwise wouldn't take openly. Soft or rough, they were all the same to her. Thankfully through the use of her clientele did Scylla finally land a more prominent role at a bath house and she was able to live a stable life for nearly a decade and even move away from having to let people use her body. By this point, Scylla was fully grown. She towered among clients and other staff alike. To a degree, she intimidated them. No one could tell her what to do when she did anything that needed done without direction. Inquiring clients were always turned away from her. Nobody was going to control Scylla anymore and she intended to keep it that way. Or so she thought...

A wealthy cat from the Alemanish States came to visit one night. While several women were tasked with serving him, he wanted the woman he could not have the moment he lay eyes upon her. Despite the persuasion with money, Scylla simply turned him down. However- the man was clever. It was a dirty trick. As he offered Scylla a drink out of "respect", the beverage was spiked with a heavy tranquilizer and Scylla soon fell victim to her first assault. But it didn't stop there. Scylla was kidnapped and moved the Alemanish States where the man intended to keep using her as he pleased.

The abuse was endured for months and Scylla fought him every day. However the man schemed- he was not satisfied from having to drug the woman every time to get his way. So he took it even further to break Scylla in. With the help of a rouge surgeon- the woman had her arms and legs surgically amputated from her body, only leaving 'the goods' behind. With no way to fight back, Scylla fell apart and accepted her fate. She became somewhat of a spectacle, a trophy if you will call it that for this man and his friends behind closed doors. An exotic giantess forced to submit by would-be prey.

With time- Scylla managed to learn Alemans and communicate better with her captors. Even to the surprise of her owner, whom she became so well-behaved for. Maybe it was pity. Or some form of sick satisfaction of building a 'perfect' fuck toy. Scylla's owner slowly introduced her to a set of prosthetic legs so that she may become mobile once again. It took time, but she would become acclimated to them and with trust- was allowed to keep them on as he would remove them when not in use for his enjoyment. As she slowly proved her worth he even gave her a pair of arms. Improving the quality of her limbs each passing month as "gifts" for her good behavior. Scylla transformed from a battered woman in to a beautiful testament to this mans power over her to the point she was almost proud of it herself. Maybe a little too proud...

The total time of captivity had now neared eight years and Scylla has certainly grown accustomed to her creature comforts, in fact she was spoiled rotten but she was not fully free. Despite the "freedom" she had within the mansion walls, she was not allowed to go beyond the property walls outside. When Scylla was not "servicing" her captor or guests, she spent much of her time learning trades. It started with clothing, but slowly it started to creep in to newer and bigger things. Even to the point she was servicing her own limbs, much to her owners contribution of material. Which shimmered from layers of ebony, pearl and carbon fiber plating depending on whatever the mood called for. She yearned for more devices to learn on, she could make weapons if she so wanted to. She begged to expand her craft. But to no surprise was refused on grounds she may attack with them. As if she needed weapons to harm anyone, but as she contemplated- an epiphany hit her.

She has harmed before. She could do it again. And she didn't need weapons to it as her body was a weapon.

On a mid-summer evening, Scylla propositioned her feline owner for her freedom. Despite what has happened to her, Scylla was thankful for the life he provided to her instead of alone on the streets or a bath house. She even vowed to never tell anyone about the crimes committed against her so long he let her go.... Her captor laughed at her. He fucking laughed. Scylla was reminded of her place and how she was a whore to him and everyone else as she had nowhere to go or know how to do anything else except be a sperm receptacle.

Scylla won't lie, the words stung. She watched as the man got up to pour two glasses of his favorite bourbon and instructed her to come take a drink before they turn in for the evening. However- there was a knock on the door and the kit left to answer. Scylla's wandering eyes just so happen to catch something. One of the drinks were bubbling. More than likely from an illicit substance he intended for her. In a fleeting response she quickly swapped the place of both drinks as the man returned. He proposed a toast, which Scylla reluctantly obliged- grabbing the 'clean' glass she had swapped in his place.

"A toast- to my female magnum opus. Remember, I created you. I can very much destroy you." He would say, as he took a swig from his glass.

Scylla, holding back her fury, did the same. Soon after she found herself back in his bedroom and lying on her back once more for him.
But just as he began to start his coitus, he suddenly stopped. His eyes freezing with fear. She looked down at him in bewilderment. Through forced wheezes he cried. "What... did you... do?!" To which Scylla slowly turned his body down on the bed and straddled his small body. It was her turn to be in control. "Oh I'm sorry. Was that meant for me?" The woman teased as the male slowly began to lose control of his body and went limp. Only able to stare at her in shock.

She could leave. This was her chance. No... something had to be done and she needed to make a statement. Scylla hopped from the bed and retrieved several cords from around the room and began tying them around the mans limbs as she undressed him completely. Constructing makeshift tourniquets as she went. The feline wheezed in panic and caused Scylla to hiss in pleasure. "Do you not remember what you did to me? Did you think I forgot how I became this way?!" She held up her hand, the pearlescent knuckles shifting in place before she socked him straight in the jaw, as the cat could only muster a small sob in response. "An eye for an eye makes the whole world blind. But I'm not going to take your eyes. I want you to see what I am going to do to you."

Between muffled screams of a drugged abuser and crunching flesh. She started with each toe and finger, making her way up in sections. With every sickly squish of Scylla biting down on the mans limbs she proceeded to remove them one by one and ate them right in front of him. Being kept alive just barely by the premade tie-downs on his extremities. Scylla doesn't know when, but somewhere between her second to third limb the man passed out from the shock and blood loss. She was finally free~


Here we arrive to present day. Scylla has managed to live comfortably for awhile with stolen assets of her abuser.
Yes, he did survive. Tales of a cannibalistic whore circulated among local circles but slowly died off when noone of Scylla's description could be found. Even when she was suspected, Scylla never stuck around long enough to be questioned. Honing her craft, Scylla kept herself busy in remote towns where her labor would be needed until moving on to the next. However Scylla has gotten tired of moving around so much and has made plans to move more towards the coast. Maybe she'll find a warm island to settle down on... that always seemed like a nice dream.