Mosi Gisclair
History:
When Mosi was born, it was on a reservation to a medicine woman. Her father had disappeared during the pregnancy, and her mother was secretly a healing mage. Potions, tinctures, and pleasant smokes filled the mothers’ days but even then she made time for her child. The mother a good, kind woman in the face of the crippling despair of stagnation felt by most on the reservation. This all changed when, unwittingly, Mosi’s mother made herself the target of skinwalkers. The medicine woman healed a town drunk of an odd poison, corpse-dust, that had been slipped to him to give him a slow, painfully lingering death. The goal, the drunks death, was purely out of malice and evil. It was out of preparation for the skinwalker’s next sabbath. The medicine woman enraged the outcasts by saving the drunk, the monsters with spirits as twisted as their night-time forms. In reprisal,in the dark of night, they stole Mosi away. Originally planning to simply eat the child and leave their soft bones in a bag upon the mother’s porch as a testament of cruelty, the skinwalkers instead gleefully found the babe had the gift of magic. This, they reasoned, was why the medicine woman was able to cure the drunk of his affliction. And their evil hearts and devious minds came upon a fate worse than the death of a child to torture the mother. The black sabbath that formed mosi as she is was unique. There was no human sacrifice, the shaman had ruined such plans. Instead, the monsters wounded a stray cat they had found, using it’s blood as a baptism of a curse upon Mosi as a babe. The babe was cursed to become a skinwalker. Wheras most of these evil reflections of the darkest of humanity’s free will chose this fate, Mosi had it thrust upon her in a perversion of magic and evil. But the story did not end badly for the young babe. Mosi’s mother, in a fit of rage and fear, burst into the clearing with her truck. Steel and rubber collided, smashed, and trampled skinwalkers underneath as the shaman wielded magic few would expect of a healer. Scattering the monsters, the woman found her babe, now cursed, blind, and covered with blood. Taking the still-breathing cat with her as well, the healer fled the reservation. Regrouping and with a renewed fury, the skinwalkers gave chase. Repeatedly they ambushed the mother at gas-stations, at motels. Silver, animalistic eyes in the rear-view mirror or staring through the window of her room. Locks and doorhandles tested, claws scratching a horrifying sound down the glass of windows. But wounded, battered, tired, and over-spent, the healer made it to Louisiana. Rolling up to a reputed house of healing and safety in the magically lawless swamps, the shaman found Mrs Gisclair or ‘Gram-Gram’ to those who knew her. The voodoo priestess was able to contain the curse, the evil imperative to cause harm and pain, guiding it into the babe’s arms and locking it away with magical arm-bands. The ritual, however, took the last of the healers life. And as Mosi’s mother sacrificed herself for her daughter, she begged Mrs. Gisclair to care for ‘her little cat, her Mosi’. Gram-Gram would go on to raise the young skinwalker as her own, even adopting her and giving her the Gisclair surname. With the assistance of Kokoro, the two gave the young girl a loving, doting, and well-educated (both mundie and magical) childhood. This was particularly needed as, in order to continue to contain the curse and stop herself from going ‘feral’, Mosi had to inflict harm every day. Opting to self-harm instead of others, Mrs. Gisclair taught Mosi how to create corpse-dust and, to this day, Mosi’s morning routine inevitably starts with a pinch of corpse-dust swallowed and a trip to the bathroom as her stomach purges itself painfully of the poison.I pinch corpse dust in the morning,With time, Mosi even befriended several animal companions and pets that approached her when other animals fled at the monstrous young girl. A crow, an otter, and most inspiringly the cat which her mother saved from the ritual that turned mosi into what she was. Each of these pets and animals lived to a ripe old age before passing peacefully. It was then that Mosi was exposed to the good of her powers that, like so many things in her life, came with a cost. With the urging guidance of Mrs Gisclair, Mosi cleaned and skinned the animals, their hides tanned and forming a magical jacket and permanently bestowing upon their friend the ability to take their forms. As time went on, mosi longed for adventure and soon found an outlet. Argen, a fellow woman who stayed at Gram-Gram’s ‘home for wayward girls’, sent out the call. Interested and skilled help was needed. And with her magical mastery of shadows and sneaky shape-shifting, Mosi found her niche.
I pinch corpse dust at night,
I pinch corpse dust in the afternoon,
It all tastes like shiiiiite.
I pinch corpse dust in times of peace,
and I pinch in times of war.
I pinch some dust before I pinch some dust,
and I just puke and pinch some more.”
Physical Condition
Mosi is relatively healthy in the face of an insurmountable malady. While her health is in a generally good state, this is purely due to almost daily visits to the infirmary. Her curse and the unsavory method for keeping it in check have a catastrophic nature upon her body. No person, barring perhaps a troll or werewolf, could resist the long-term effects of daily corpse-dust ingestion. That is, naturally, why I have continued to happily render my assistance to the poor woman. And, despite her affliction she remains in good spirits.
Mosi is a normal enough human. Barring the moving curse patterns upon her arms, the pale eyes and her feline tail. Slightly taller than the average, she has developed well despite a very offputting start. It’s partly due to her affliction she takes her health so seriously. While she is one to indulge, she almost exclusively applies herself to physical exercise when not actively working.
I have had the pleasure of meeting a fellow health-focused individual in Mosi. An equally studious person who is almost a dietician in all but certification. And yet, despite this, Mosi is imperfect. Her long hours of endurance and aerobic training are often offset by an over-fondness for a carnivorous diet and long, uninterrupted periods of sleeping.
This is most certainly due to her feline nature, quite visible in the form of her tail and ears. Perhaps as easily attributed, Mosi has an innate talent for agility and flexibility based physical feats. Mosi’s eyes are also, while blind to our spectrum of sight, magically capable of seeing. Giving her a greater capability of seeing her surroundings than us.
Psychological
Mosi is an interesting preponderance of introversion and extroversion. Of wants and needs. Of human fragility and fortitude. I have had nothing but enjoyable interactions with the witty young woman and I look forward to future meetings. Though I must remember to not let her sink her nails into my couch while stretching.
Mosi is a troubled yet resilient mind. She does not remember her biological parents and is estranged from her home culture. As a result, she views Mrs. Gisclair and Kokoro as her guardians and parents, both women raising her from a young age.
Mosi has a profound respect for life. Animal and human. She is by no means a “tree-embracer” but she has deeply ingrained her respect for life and disrespect for those that waste it. Perhaps this is tied not just to her upbringing but also her ability to shape-shift being hingent upon the life and essence of an animal being harvested by her own hands.
Also, due to the nature of her curse, her self-harming is troubling but unrelated to any psychiatric reason. If anything, she uses it as fuel for a lively sense of humor. Dry, sardonic, and pleasant wit are all used by the young woman even as she seems to knowingly maintain eye contact so you are thrown off mental balance by her unearthly eyes.
Mosi’s resilience and mental mapping are, I would argue, perfect for both solo and group missions. Mosi has the fortitude for long, secretive, and isolated stealthy exploits. Meanwhile, she is equally happy to party with others. She is functional, free, and far more an impressive mental specimen than I anticipated.
Children
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