Post by psychotic on May 16, 2011 23:15:32 GMT -5
Name: Arthas Severton Grimké
Age: 215 (Appears about 30 in human form)
Race: Demon
Occupation: Magic User/ Assasin-for-hire
Allegiance: Himself, for the moment.
Physical Description:
Human Form
Demon Form
Arthas's human form is mostly like a human. No one can recognize his wings unless he purposefully reveals them. They mesh around him perfectly, forming a closk with his wings. They keep him well hidden from the public eye and also allow him to blend into shadows.
His demonic form is only used in desperation, when surrounded and in true need of it. It is a last resort and only achievable through quickly-draining magic. His more demonic form is more capable of combat and a master of brute strength.
Personality: Ha! Personality, thats funny. One may usually find Arthas within a monotone mood, oftentimes irrespondent to those around him. He pushes away the world and keeps to himself as much as he can. He absolutely dreads mortals and cannot stand them. He is fine with other immortals, and long living beings, like elves, but he still has a small grudge against most of Elven kind.
When he is angry... well, let's just say you should run for the hills. Giving him a reason to be angry is a death wish, quite literally. Angering him could quite possibly mean death-on-the-spot. Though he is far from short-tempered, it just gives better reason on how he gets so enraged. It's so hard to get him this way, that you'd have to be doing it intentionally to make him want to kill you. Otherwise, he wouldn't hurt you without good reason.
Arthas is a bit off in the head after years of fighting, blood, and gore. He occasionally will drift off into violent fantasies and imagine, most likely, his enemies dying in the most horrible of methods. Which, trust me, are quite disturbing. If one pried into his mind, they would find a living Hell. (I apologize for the profanity. Used for emphasis, not for the sole purpose of cursing.)
History:
History. An interestingly awkward topic for Arthas. Well, to begin...
Arthas was born in lands far outside the reach of Alagesia. (Excuse me for the lack of accentation.) Like most, if not all demons; his parents abandoned him at birth. Hence why his kind is so rare, even in his homelands, and much more so in Alagesia. He learned to fend for himself though, his brain quick to jump on survival instinct. His small, baby-like body lived on a blood lust. He learned how to walk in a matter of two days. He caught small game to eat, drinking their blood beforehand for nourishment before devouring the meat, mostly whole. The sight was oftentimes rather disturbing, seeing a toddler suck the blood from a dead rabbit and eat it whole.
Many, many years passed like this. As he reached 60 years and his juvenile age, he began catching larger game with a self-made bow and arrow. He also found himself a knack for magic that he desired to grow so badly. So he set off from his homelands in search of a good teacher.
He learned under the elves, as a guest. He wasn't welcomed warmly by many, but very heartily by scholars interested in knowing more of his kind. He gladly taught them everything in return for their knowledge on magic. They kept their promises well, training him for the better part of 120 years.
Arthas was now 180 and appeared 25-ish. He found himself now experimenting with magic, using mostly his elder wood staff that he had been gifted by the scholars as a student after they sung it from a tree. Arthas would build layer upon layer of magical protection on it until it was unbreakable by any means but the most powerful of magics. He left the elves with a farewell, rather saddened he had to go though. But he knew he belonged elsewhere.
It was around his 201st birthday before finding a stable job. He became an Assasin for hire, spending the next years of his life training with traditional weapons. He became very efficient with his claymore, which is usually found strapped across his back with his staff; and dual shortswords, usually kept on his hips. He also keeps various knives and daggers concealed throughout his outfits, for throwing and for close range combat.
Arthas has become both knowledgable and cold over the years; but his true desire is to pass on his knowledge to a student of his own. He is searching for an apprentice.
Roleplaying Sample:
'Twas but a shame that a night so pitch, so black as this could only hinder his travels. Arthas let off an exaggerated huff as he cast his glance skywards, glaring at the currently nonexistent moon. He needed to keep moving, not be stuck in a filthy human settlement. Nevertheless, he was stuck and would have to live with the consequence. The demon grumbled crossly to himself, traversing silently in the sleeping town. Finding a suitable alley, he rutted into a shadowy corner and roosted there. His black wings were curled tightly against his lithe body, sealing him off from the surrounding world. Blended perfectly, did the effect of this toll; but also adding an already black soul to the collection of dark nights. Tonight would not be a well-slept night, as obvious to Arthas as a contort to his ear.
Age: 215 (Appears about 30 in human form)
Race: Demon
Occupation: Magic User/ Assasin-for-hire
Allegiance: Himself, for the moment.
Physical Description:
Human Form
Demon Form
Arthas's human form is mostly like a human. No one can recognize his wings unless he purposefully reveals them. They mesh around him perfectly, forming a closk with his wings. They keep him well hidden from the public eye and also allow him to blend into shadows.
His demonic form is only used in desperation, when surrounded and in true need of it. It is a last resort and only achievable through quickly-draining magic. His more demonic form is more capable of combat and a master of brute strength.
Personality: Ha! Personality, thats funny. One may usually find Arthas within a monotone mood, oftentimes irrespondent to those around him. He pushes away the world and keeps to himself as much as he can. He absolutely dreads mortals and cannot stand them. He is fine with other immortals, and long living beings, like elves, but he still has a small grudge against most of Elven kind.
When he is angry... well, let's just say you should run for the hills. Giving him a reason to be angry is a death wish, quite literally. Angering him could quite possibly mean death-on-the-spot. Though he is far from short-tempered, it just gives better reason on how he gets so enraged. It's so hard to get him this way, that you'd have to be doing it intentionally to make him want to kill you. Otherwise, he wouldn't hurt you without good reason.
Arthas is a bit off in the head after years of fighting, blood, and gore. He occasionally will drift off into violent fantasies and imagine, most likely, his enemies dying in the most horrible of methods. Which, trust me, are quite disturbing. If one pried into his mind, they would find a living Hell. (I apologize for the profanity. Used for emphasis, not for the sole purpose of cursing.)
History:
History. An interestingly awkward topic for Arthas. Well, to begin...
Arthas was born in lands far outside the reach of Alagesia. (Excuse me for the lack of accentation.) Like most, if not all demons; his parents abandoned him at birth. Hence why his kind is so rare, even in his homelands, and much more so in Alagesia. He learned to fend for himself though, his brain quick to jump on survival instinct. His small, baby-like body lived on a blood lust. He learned how to walk in a matter of two days. He caught small game to eat, drinking their blood beforehand for nourishment before devouring the meat, mostly whole. The sight was oftentimes rather disturbing, seeing a toddler suck the blood from a dead rabbit and eat it whole.
Many, many years passed like this. As he reached 60 years and his juvenile age, he began catching larger game with a self-made bow and arrow. He also found himself a knack for magic that he desired to grow so badly. So he set off from his homelands in search of a good teacher.
He learned under the elves, as a guest. He wasn't welcomed warmly by many, but very heartily by scholars interested in knowing more of his kind. He gladly taught them everything in return for their knowledge on magic. They kept their promises well, training him for the better part of 120 years.
Arthas was now 180 and appeared 25-ish. He found himself now experimenting with magic, using mostly his elder wood staff that he had been gifted by the scholars as a student after they sung it from a tree. Arthas would build layer upon layer of magical protection on it until it was unbreakable by any means but the most powerful of magics. He left the elves with a farewell, rather saddened he had to go though. But he knew he belonged elsewhere.
It was around his 201st birthday before finding a stable job. He became an Assasin for hire, spending the next years of his life training with traditional weapons. He became very efficient with his claymore, which is usually found strapped across his back with his staff; and dual shortswords, usually kept on his hips. He also keeps various knives and daggers concealed throughout his outfits, for throwing and for close range combat.
Arthas has become both knowledgable and cold over the years; but his true desire is to pass on his knowledge to a student of his own. He is searching for an apprentice.
Roleplaying Sample:
'Twas but a shame that a night so pitch, so black as this could only hinder his travels. Arthas let off an exaggerated huff as he cast his glance skywards, glaring at the currently nonexistent moon. He needed to keep moving, not be stuck in a filthy human settlement. Nevertheless, he was stuck and would have to live with the consequence. The demon grumbled crossly to himself, traversing silently in the sleeping town. Finding a suitable alley, he rutted into a shadowy corner and roosted there. His black wings were curled tightly against his lithe body, sealing him off from the surrounding world. Blended perfectly, did the effect of this toll; but also adding an already black soul to the collection of dark nights. Tonight would not be a well-slept night, as obvious to Arthas as a contort to his ear.
