Biographical Information:

Height: 6'4"

Weight: 140 lbs.

Eyes: Gray Steel

Hair: Golden

Description: This character is covered with a deep, rich, hooded, midnight blue silk
cloak, fastened around the throat with a golden clasp, a figure of some sort drawn on it. The hood of his cloak is thrown back, off his head. He wears a finely woven, gold silk shirt, buttoned half-way, showing his hairless, slightly muscular chest. His pants are of a fine, Italian black leather. His boots are the same. He stands at least five feet, two inches and weighs about one-hundred and fourty pounds. He seems well built, and his skin complexion is
dark, but he isn't blackened by the suns pulsating heat. His eyes are a cold, grey steel colour. In his hand he holds a slender oaken staff that looks like it can take the most harsh blow from a swinging sword and still be just fine. On his left hip is a sheath that encases a finely made rapier. On his right hip, a foil rests neatly in a finely made sheath. In his boot, a finely crafted dagger protrudes from a compartment made to sheath the blade in the boot. His hair is a little long, not much, but long enough. It's golden strings fall over his ears, and to his shoulders, two strands falling in front of his eyes. He is clean and well kept. His mannerisms are polite, and his speech is educated. Each movement he makes is calculated, seemingly, at least four times before it's stepped. He seems well off.

An Unconfirmed Beginning to Antillian Devaux.

Antillian was born in 1544 to a peasant farmer and his midwife wife. He lived a simple life, farming with his father when he was old enough. On Antillian's sixth birthday, he and his father had gone into Sicily to sell their products at the market. Little did Corrin, Antillian's father, know that Bandits awaited them just outside the city gates. As he and his father approached, his father pulling the produce cart, Antillian walking at this side, the Bandits leapt from their hidden position and tackled Corrin. Antillian, having been stunned by the whole ordeal, turned immediately and started to run. He didn't look back, but after about fifty feet he heard his father scream in agony. He turned back and saw a horrific sight. One of the bandits had plunged his stiletto deep into Corrins arm, pinning his right shoulder to the ground. Antillian quickly turned 'round and started back. He ran as fast as his little six year old legs could carry him. He screamed a slightly vicious warcry and leapt into their mists, his little fists flailing all around. One of the bandits grabbed hold of him from behind and flung him violently into the produce cart. He smashed into it and fell to the ground, hitting his head hard against the cobblestone. By this time, the Bandit's had finished off Corrin and turned upon Antillian. Suffice it to say, horrid wounds and all, Antillian rose to his feet, blood seeping slowly and painfully from the side of his head. He gazed at the bandits, hatred and fear blazing in his little steel eyes. Antillians face was just as red as the wound on his head. He lifted his hands and slowly began to walk toward the bandits, they chuckled at this young boy and started their advance, "You....can't.....kill....me!!!!" Antillian roared and with that, his hands went into the air, the Bandits went with the movements of his hands and Antillian fell to his knees, keeping as much of his mental and physical strength alive as he could. He could not explain where, or why he was able to do this, nor could he explain why he was going to kill these bandits. His hands dropped and so did the bandits, being flung over the city gates. Antillian collapsed from the exertion of force and couldn't tell himself how long he was out. All he could remember was a man that stepped out of the city gates with the guards and took him in his arms. He carried him away....travelling for what seemed like a dreamy state.....the bleeding had been stopped. It seemed like forever that they travelled. Antillian could remember nothing more. When he arose, he was in a lavished room, complete with wall to wall shelves of.....books and library items. A hefty looking man in a white robe came to him. He sat down and explained to Antillian what had happened, and what will happen. Antillian was in mute shock. But he nodded his acceptance of the situation. Antillian had come to learn that that nasty bump on his head had opened up a hidden resevoir of powers he never knew he had.....such a traumatic experience it was that when it happened, he didn't realize it happened. The mage, henceforth called Sievel, explained to him that because he was still alive after such exertion of raw power, that he was surprised he was still alive. Upon learning what all Antillian was able to do at his stage, Sievel told him that he had been asleep for more than a month. As, Sievel had taken him to Greece, to his home which he shared with more than eight others like himself. Sievel explained that he nursed him back to full health and was glad that he finally awoke. He explained to Antillian his powers, and what he might be able to do with many years of practice and hard study. Antillian sat, silently, acknowledging his new world. Antillian had set forth, that night in sleep, on a journey that he would never forget. As a silver...."being" appeared before him and told him that he would do good in the world. And that to use his powers for the good of mankind, would do him well. Antillians dream could tell him nothing more, but the next morning Antillian woke with a motivation to learn everything he could. He awoke with a wanton urge to learn it all, to be the best. To be feared by bandits universally. He wanted to be the best, and his motivation assured him he would get it. Antillian seemed to take to his awakening well, forgetting all about his mother, and his family back home. He spent his time in the libraries, pouring over ancient scrolls and tomes. Learning all he could before he could. What he didn't understand, he sought help to understand. Sievel, one time, spoke to a friend of his, expressing his concern for Antillian as he'd never once come across a child so commited. A child that saw so clearly so early. But, as Sievel promised Antillian, he would teach him all that he knew. His friend could only nod and watch Antillian's studies with Sievel. The two standing in the libraries entrance. Sievel often encouraged Antillian to play outside and be a child when he would go for days on end in the library. And Antillian was more than glad to oblidge, as he would go on long walks, studying the plant life and life in general of the outside world. On Antillian's fourteenth birthday, June 1st, 1553, Sievel presented him with three spellbooks that had been handed down from Master to Apprentice, Master to Apprentice, for generations. He explained that when the time was right, Antillian would no longer need the spellbooks and would most likely be able to control all he wanted to at his own whims. Sievel had no need to tell Antillian that he could no longer teach him, and that it was his time to move on. Antillian set out, then and there. Leaving behind all he knew for the past eight years. Sievel was sad to see him go, but it was Antillians time. Antillian spent a year travelling all over Greece, visiting every library that he could. On his 15th birthday, Antillian entered Italy once more, and began his trek back to Florence. Antillian is now sixteen. A "man" in this day and age. Yet, he still looks so young. His health is well within him and he seems to have more than a natural affinity for the working of magic. Antillians quest for the ultimate power has yet to cease and his studies continue, even to this day. All is well to Antillian and he has plenty of resources to continue his life in Italy.