Post by tiilyr on Feb 9, 2011 0:53:35 GMT -5
Name: Gabriel Wrek
Age: Very, very old. Relatively unknown.
Race: Angel
Occupation: None. Mostly just a drifter.
Allegiance: Himself.
Physical Description, personality, and history:
”Where do you belong?” The voice rang in Gabriel’s head. It was hot like red metal, like it was pressing between his ears and into the cavernous space of his mind. He didn’t respond, instead he remained panting on his knees, wrists secured with a glowing metal behind his back, restricting his movements. The binds were as hot as the voice has been, making his hands feel like they’d melt away at any moment. The sheen of sweat still covered him and his chest rose and fell dramatically, like he was fighting to regain a rhythm.
One more heavy breath filled his lungs and he let it pass through never inch of his body. He let his eyes slowly open. They were unearthly and clean, drenched in blue that put earthly skies to shame. They shut again as he felt breath on his neck, a face so closed to his that he could feel the heat jumping between their bodies. ”You are not my brother. Not anymore.” It was like the words were solid, pressing against the skin of his neck and burying themselves in his flesh.
He heard movement then felt the unrelenting light from behind his eyelids. It would have sounded like silence to most; but to the ears of Gabriel, he heard the quiet and synchronized breaths of the heavenly hosts. He could feel their gaze without opening his eyes. It was heavy and weighing, like it’d never lift from his shoulders. They all saw him in his weakness; his strong, muscled body forced to the ground like he was nothing, on his knees with his hands behind his back, head hanging for heaven to see. ”I want every one of you to witness,” It was like the air carried the voice, echoing on and on. ”Witness the fall of Gabriel.” A name he’d never hear off the tongue of another angel. He opened his eyes and lifted his head to watch as every pair of eyes watched him. Some of them wept. Others held nothing but confusion in their faces. One thing Gabriel couldn’t see was the scene the rest of the angels stared in at.
Gabriel, nearly bowed to the ground. Seraphim and archangel of heaven, preparing to fall from grace. Somehow he still looked strong… still looked like the angel he was. His dark hair was dark, unlike most. It was something that had always distinguished him, along with the other archangels. His skin was light and unblemished, utterly smooth and wrapping around the muscle of his body. The only marks on his skin were purposely made, intricate black designs that stretched from his left shoulder up the back of his neck, disappearing into his hair line. He looked strained, like his body was coiled tight and he was never quite able to catch his breath. They’d seen him so many times, watched him stand in favor as an example, as a leader. And now they watched as he was knelt before them, branded a traitor among his own. ”I want every one of you to witness. Witness the fall of Gabriel.” The words stung their ears and pulled tears from their hearts. ”This is the fate of those who disobey.” The man knit his hand into Gabriel’s hair and pulled his head back so they could all see his face. ”This is the fate of those who question their God, who doubt in his wisdom and his power.” The hand dropped, as did Gabriel’s head along with it. ”Witness the fall of Gabriel.”
His next memories would begin in the dirt of another world. One where dirt and grime clung to his skin and the language was sharp and cutting. Where they claimed use of magic and fought like beasts. It was crude and cruel… It was what he’d given his exaltation for. What he’d fallen for. For them. His head pounded, the experience of a headache sinking in for the first time. Every little noise made him twitch, his heightened senses being battered by the rough details of an earthly world. The feel of wind against his skin made him shake and the sound of moving water was like hammers swinging inside his head. Water. He’d never been thirsty before, never been hungry. Now he was learning for his own. He’d never bled before. Never hungered or felt weak.
Gabriel knelt by the clear waters of Leona Lake, giving himself a rare moment to examine himself. He would continue to live, plagued by life. Thousands of years, watching men kill in the name of their gods, listening to the sounds of destruction and the songs of war. His eyes were as unearthly blue as they’d been in heaven, but his skin was no longer untouched. He was decorated in scars that he collected over centuries, a walking piece of history. The strange patterns that had decorated his shoulder and neck rarely made an appearance. Gabriel frowned at his appearance, standing slowly and still watching himself. He pulled his tunic off over his head, turning to the side to view a small portion of his shoulder and back. His eyes slipped shut and he felt and he felt a sickening cold spread through his limbs, beginning at his shoulders. When his eyelids lifted open again, Gabriel sighed at his own appearance. Despite the fall…despite everything, they could not steal every shred of his angelic body. His wings were large, once colored in the brightest of white, now replaced with a dull grey. As they shifted and settled at his back, feathers fell out of them. They looked sad and along on the ground, just like their owner. The tattoo reappeared slowly, spidering its way up his skin. His skin even seemed to produce its own faint light, even in the utter darkness of a clouded sky.
In a rare moment of anger he looked up at the clouds above, letting out a yell from deep in his chest. It was like it shook the forest. ”Is this what you wanted Michael?” He yelled up towards the heavens, the words tearing at his throat on the way out. ”To watch me crawl through this world?” Gabriel’s hands knit into his own hair as he crumpled forward, body curling as he muscles tightened and he fought for control over himself, over the outpouring of emotion that pulled at his heart. ”I never wanted to see you fall.” The words caught Gabriel off guard. He turned quickly, recognizing the voice automatically. His wings vanished along with the tattoos and glow of his skin. Michael stood watching him, untarnished and in all his glory, glowing white hot with wings to match. ”I told you. I warned you, did I not?” Michael moved in a slow circle around the man who was once his heavenly counterpart; now nothing but a fallen angel, made to wander the earth for eternity and watch as mortals fought and suffered and died. ”Were they worth it, Gabriel?” His eyes were just as bright as Gabriel remembered them. ”Were they worth the price you paid?” Gabriel stood straight, the wings returning to his back and his traces of glory returning to him. ”This is my kingdom now.” He stepped closer to the heavenly being, voice low. ”My moment of weakness has passed. I will not visit it again.” A slight smile came to Michael’s face. ”But you haven’t told me. Are they worth it?” Gabriel had never been surer of his words as they fell from his mouth. ”As long as a single good man walks these grounds, it will be worth it.” In a flash, Michael was gone, but somehow he left words echoing in the air. “And what about when there are no more good men?” Gabriel spoke to himself, returning to a typical earthly state. He could barely hear his own voice. ”I can only hope.”
Gabriel now wanders Alagaesia. He’s never been seen in a spot light, always only lurking in the shadows of time and some of the greatest stories. He permanently sits in the back seat. Never has he put on any great show of power or made dramatic entrances for the attention of the beings in Alagaesia. His cause is simple. Propagate the good, provide aid where needed, and give his advice and support to those he sees sparks of hope in. All he asks in return is that his name be kept quiet, like he never made contact. He’s fallen to the ways of the world though, that was unstoppable. He’s nowhere near perfect. Gabriel yields to anger, jealousy, and temptation just like everyone else. His strength was never being able to deny sin…not even close. His strength comes in his ability to see clearly through it and objective in the face of his own emotions.
Gabriel does his best to remain inconspicuous, appearing more so like a wayward traveler than anything. With a scruffy face and typically tattered clothes he could pass easily for a convict or a thief, but the air of comfort around him usually removes the edge from people’s skepticism. He has the tendency to smile in the face of every situation and lighten moods that otherwise felt like lead. On the rare occasion that his anger is truly sparked, the typical charm and friendliness disappears, replaced by rage and the type of cold actions that have left men in pieces. His fuse is long and his patience is thick, but when he reaches the point of breaking, he’s fueled by bitterness and overwhelmed by it.
One thing is true about him beyond all else.
He is a tired, weathered soul.
Roleplaying Sample:
There was something about the night air that was too dry. It was crisp and clean in the kind of monotonous way that made James wish for home more than anything else. The desert was a fickle place. In the day it exhaled pure and potent heat and at night it cooled quickly and silently, the only evidence of heat being the light warmth of the sand. It wasn’t unbearable, but it was the kind of sudden change that left James wanting something a little more stable in his already upturned life. If you could call it a life. Maybe it wasn’t life at all… maybe he was dead. Honestly he didn’t care either way. It wasn’t like he could change anything if he was in some sort of Limbo.
The moon was calling loudly that night. James wasn’t entirely sure why. The full moon was hardest to ignore; but tonight only a crescent showed in the sky, seeming to smile above Door. It was enough to keep him from his bed. He found himself standing on the porch of his cabin in nothing but a pair of jeans, staring up at the sky. It was incredible, the way the rays of the moon was enough to make him take in a deep breath and feel a tingling sensation running through his body. Some creatures rejoiced in the sun, in the heat of it. James rejoiced in the moon and its silence. It wasn’t long before he was undoing the button of his worn jeans and sliding them off. He didn’t take the time to fold them, he just let them dangle on the railing around the porch. A smile appeared on his face as he took a step back, coming as close to the front door as he could. The weight of his body shifted between his feet as he bounced back and forth between them. The moon was soaking into his naked body. Nothing would ever feel that good. As the grin spread across his face, James was propelling himself forward and taking the largest leap from his porch that he possibly could.
Four paws impacted the ground. A body rose from its crouch. Instead of looking like the human, it took on the form of a large wolf with dark, nearly black, fur. He was larger than the average wolf, rivaling the size of a small horse. His green eyes didn’t spare a moment to look back at his home, or to contemplate the idea of bringing a pair of pants along with him. He’d learned after a few months in Door that it was best to stash spare clothing at random points; where he hoped no one would find them. So far it had worked out relatively well. Only a few pairs of jeans had gone missing.
The wolf was reckless when alone. There was no one to worry about…no one to contemplate. It was only him and his own life at stake. Maybe that was why he hadn’t joined a pack, either in Door or on Earth. There were a few werewolf packs in Chicago…little did the world know. They were like an otherworldly Mafia. When he lived in the mountains in northern Colorado, there were regular wolf packs everywhere, but he felt no pull towards then. It was strange behavior for a wolf… they were pack animals by habit. It was natural for them to band together, even in werewolf form. It was just another excuse for James to live his lonely life.
He was out in the night for hours, running the terrain of the desert. He was ready to return hold, the restlessness subsiding inside him. His running slowed as he approached town and turned into an easy walk. The world was so much more fantastic with the senses that being a wolf provided. There were sounds that he never picked up on, even with the advanced hearing he had in human form. Given the choice, he would spend his entire life as a wolf. Society tended to frown on that though. His slow walk took him to the edges of town and eventually the cemetery of the church. He wove his way between head stones and make-shift grave markers. Many had died. An ornamental tomb came into view. Nearly at the same time, so did a person. From the small, red glow that floated around the outline gave him the impression of smoking. He made a point of not looking at the person as he passed. People tended to get uneasy when a massive wolf was staring them down. Go figure. He came to the tomb and jumped forward, his front paws landing against the stone back panel as he reached upward and pulled something from peak of the roof with his teeth. As he dropped to the ground and let the object fall, the moonlight would reveal that it was nothing but a pair of jeans…stored away months earlier.
The change happened in a quick moment. It was familiarly painful, due to the aspects of his first change… along with the scars that covered his chest and back. James tilted his head back and examined the moon with human eyes as his fingers worked the zipper and button of his pants. A sigh left him and his arms fell to his sides. He was back to the real world… or as real as Door could be. He moved from behind the tomb, standing in the shadowed portion as he watched the person… suddenly unwilling to disturb him.
