Cynder, the Living Weapon

Real Name: Cyrilla Demopoulos
Hero Name: Cynder, The Living Weapon
Alignment: Neutral Good
Age: 17
Gender: Female
Race: Meta Human / Mixed Greek
Hair: Varies
Eyes: Hazel
Height: 5'6"
Weight: 123lbs
Blood type: ?







She's the quiet type with cat liner and a very permanent resting bitch face. Her lips are always painted electric blue, and the tips of her hair is always changing to a new color. She fantasizes about fan fiction, and finds herself acting tough to prevent anyone from thinking she's weak. She's very intelligent, however, and tries her best at her subjects, but sometimes finds herself in trouble.



Being dropped off at a fire station as a newborn sounds like a fairytale beginning, but I promise you, it's not all kittens and rainbows. Boy, she wished it were, however. She tried so hard to fit in with the foster family's she had become a part of. There was always something that felt off, and she had no idea if it was internal or what, but she would always find herself pushing the family away. She would only stay just long enough to end up back into a DCF worker's living room, sleeping on the couch, or if she was lucky, a blow up mattress. She bounced around a tiny town in Minnesota. It was only a thirty minute drive to the big city, but no one gave a crap about her town.

No one that mattered, anyway. And who did matter? To Cyrilla, she was an orphan and she would never know who her real parents were. It would take way too much time and effort to put into it. They didn't want her. Why should she try to look for them? They had forgotten her, she was sure of it. With her luck, she was likely the product of a rape victim. She probably looked too much like whoever her mother's rapist was. Her father. It made her stomach hurt thinking about it, but thankfully, she was raised to just worry about herself and her grades. She didn't do terrible in school. No. She was actually a decent student. But she had no idea why no one would want her.

Regardless, she was alive and that's what counted. She was going to get out of this town, one way or another, and it wasn't going to be without taking advantage of the system she had been placed into. As Cyrilla aged, she read books upon books, and listened to those around of her. She knew she was a child given up by someone. She knew that deep down, and as she aged and realized she wasn't staying with people that were her own flesh and blood, she pieced it all together. She was just a foster kid, trying her best.

It was the summer before her sixteenth birthday. She was walking home from the library, her bus stop just three blocks down. She had stayed a little too late, but knew there was a bus coming at seven fifteen. She was going to get on that bus, and get home without any issues. Or so she thought. As she walked, she heard grunts and groans as a man shuffled down the sidewalk. As he did, another boy was walking toward them. The man paid no mind to Cyrilla, his attention turning toward the boy. He was dressed in a less grungy outfit, so he had to have money.

The man would let out a belch as he grinned at the boy, "What cha got in yer pockets, kid? I knows ya got somethin' in dere," his breath wafted a stench unlike any other. Garlic and dirty socks, bathed in a thousand decaying corpses. His hand would move to his side as he produced a gun, waving it toward the boy. Cyrilla did the unthinkable and dove in front of the gun. As she did, she felt the hands of the boy wrap around of her. One arm enveloped her waist, lifting her, while another wrapped around of her wrist. As the boy had wrapped his hands around of her, she felt the world swallow her whole. It was like the entire galaxy lighting up around of her, and her body floating up and away. She felt free.

A loud ping followed by the swishing sound of air being cut, and then the clatter of metal against the side walk rang through the air.

Within the boy's hands lay a scythe with a long, curved blade made of a pure black metal. The handle was extravagantly crafted, and in the center, was a purple eye, it swiveling around as Cyrilla's voice flooded the boy's mind. "Oh... my... what the.. fuck..." a tremble echoed in her voice as she quivered in his grip.

The boy had used her as a weapon and sliced the gun in half, the man running in terror, a puddle of piss in his wake. As soon as she felt safe, she felt that same feeling from before wash over her and she transformed back into her normal self. She stood much shorter next to the boy, and she realized what had happened. She had... turned into a weapon? What in the world. She blinked a few times introduced herself to the boy. She found out his name was Dante, and he was also heading for the bus stop. They rode together for a while and talked about what happened, both finding a friendship blossoming by the end of the bus ride. But Cyrilla would never see Dante again.

Or so she thought.

The world has a funny way of bringing people from your past back to you.


1. Agility
2. Reaction
3. Endurance
4. Strength




Weapon Transformation!: Cyrilla is able to transform into a weapon to be wielded by another person she has willed herself into the hand's of. If Cyrilla wishes to defend or act as someone's weapon, she is choosing to give her life to them to use as their most desired form of attack or defense. Cyrilla is able to manifest as an array of weapons, and as such, can also harness certain abilities that are 100% matching to the person wielding her during combat.

Example: If Cyrilla were to be wielded by Bliss, she would likely turn into some form of gun or ice blaster of some sort. If she were wielded by Chelle, she would become a rapier or katana of sorts, but would be extremely durable and unyielding. Each power she is given while as a weapon or defensive item like a shield, Cyrilla gains one significant weakness while as her normal self.

Current Weapons:

Dante (Seer): Scythe! Cyrilla is able to transform into a large scythe with a black blade and purple eye at the heel/tang of the scythe. She can cut through a 9mm Glock as if it were butter, and she were a hot knife. Her blade can deflect bullets.

Above Average Durability: Cyrilla is not impervious, nor indestructible, but she is definitely able to withstand quite a bit of damage before going down.



Additional Weakness per Plot: As the plot permits, meaning all participants of the thread must agree, Cyrilla will gain weaknesses to counter act any abilities she gains while being wielded as a weapon.

Juvenile: Cyrilla is only 17 years old, and has barely lived life. Sure, she's gotten into a few fights with her foster siblings, but she is not very good at fighting.

Untrained: Practically the same as before, but literally Cyrilla has no skills when it comes to fighting. She knows that she has to keep her hair short so girls can't pull her hair, and she almost never wears earrings so she doesn't have those pulled out either, but essentially, she's only as good as the person wielding her as a weapon.



Old Cell Phone
Old beat up hoodie
Old beat up tuke
Old beat up converse
Lucky purple D20 with gold leafing and a chip next to the 15. It's sentimental to her.
Bus card
School ID
Messenger bag with a broken buckle
Basic cooking skills
A lighter and or matches (but doesn't smoke)
Feminine toiletries (She'll punch you if you mention them)



Cyrilla really hates her nose shape, and sometimes gets mad if she catches people looking. She'll punch boys she likes, but won't ever admit it to them. She also really likes competing at things like bike races, trivia, and other brain teasers.