Shadoweagle

Shadoweagles' visions

1.Amplified light (black)

2.View heat (crimson)

3.View magic/source of magic (jade)

4.View emotions (Topaz)

5.Night vision (White)

Shadoweagle is a young man of 20 who has midnight black hair, cut short and spiked slightly. The hair matches his eyes, which seem to actually absorb light, making some people squeamish when staring at him. These eyes were given to him by an indebted sorcerer, when Shadow was but 10 years of age. The gifts of his new eyes were traded for his normal vision, and also include an array of 'sights' which he can flicker through at any time. These sights shift his eyes' colour as well as what he sees, though now something seems to be hindering the small changes, not being so obvious and at times having a slightly too strong tinge of red. . His face is finally chiselled, emotions not easily showing through when he looks at those around him. The skin and facial features pale and withdrawn, though now holding a charm to them, an attraction of sorts. At times he wears a warm black cloak around him, held on by a dark brooch. It covers the dark clothes he chooses to wear helping him to blend into the shadows. Soft leathery boots allow and help with silent movement, even through the deepest of undergrowth. Comfortable to fight in, the clothes allow near complete manoeuvrability in the shifting of any position. A sword, strapped to his back, unlike a normal warrior’s strapped at their side, can be unsheathed faster than one can blink, well taken care of, a formidable weapon under his hand. Shadoweagle is an above average fighter, though not bieng extremely skilled. Able to protect himself and those he chooses around him in times of need, and his skill with quarterstaves will make it extremely difficult for someone to strike him when he is defensive. Adding to it, now his focus on magic and enchantments. His interest in them showing through in the increasing skill in these arts. Born with quick wit, he has self-trained himself to simplify the use of magic for himself. Making his skills much more easy to manipulate, he can nearly always mimic the spells other people cast by reaching out with his senses to watch how they form their enchantments. This skill allows him to manipulate and learn other spells without a study of books to do so, expanding his knowledge greatly. Shadoweagle is more than many people think, usually seeming to come up with something that may save him at the very last second. Once again his quick wit prevailing in tight circumstances. --------------------------------------------- Something has changed Shadoweagle. He is now quieter, more serious, more Intense. His curiosity for humankind has increased dramatically, and he will try peculiar techniques to study reactions. Paler than those who know him, and remember his sense of being has changed along with his temperament. Seeming to be more aware of those things around him, he watches anyone around him with an impassive gaze, taking in the small details around them with one glance. Even fewer people than before will be able to perhaps break through the thick outer crust of coldness and find that he may not really be as hard as first thought. Perhaps when he grins, you may see a glint of his now elongated canine teeth. Perhaps some may notice that his eyes, though already peculiar, now reflect torment....

Tarquin

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Aaaah, Tarquin. Even he is not immune to the winds of time as they flow, bringing apon change to all that is touched by it ~~~~~ Due to the constant absorption of souls Tarquin has wrenched from people, he has become vastly more powerful, managing a skill that few could rival. Tarquin has been hardened over his many years of existence, becoming even more cold and ruthless, hard as that may be to believe. In his search for power, he has barely clung onto humanity and has routinely burned each and every thought of compassion and friendship - distractions - from his thoughts. This man now garbs himself in robes of raven black to suit his personality wheras before he had chosen a plain tanned brown colour. A hood is almost always drawn over his face, all but hiding his lean features, which are illuminated only by the unearthly bronze glow which is harbored in the sunken sockets of his eyes. The only other ornaments this man wears is a brass beaded necklace, metallic oddities hanging from it, and a simple black belt, holding his robes against his thin body with a large, intricate buckle. His body, fortunately, has been shaped slightly by his soul-stealing, taking on several attributes of each victim - He no longer requires his walking staff to accompany him wherever he goes. He walks with more assurance, no longer stumbling and his lean figure is now slightly more filled in with muscle. Dispite these changes, his skin remains a paste-like, deathly pallour, and his voice is still marred, enabling him to speak only in a rasping, pythonlike whisper, which will nevertheless be heard with ease across a noisy room by seeming to pierce the air around. The hellish glow of his eyes will seem to penetrate darkness even more efficiently than light, and the man almost exhudes an aura of corruption. Chaos. Evil...

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Valdus

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.....~Trust is the colour of a grave-dogs bark. Trust is the colour of a dagger in the dark. Trust is the colour of a mans last breath. Trust is the colour of death.~..... The first and foremost thing one might notice about this man is his eyes, dark and mysterious orbs that radiate an aura of wisdom. The shade of these raven-black pools contrast sharply with the pale, deathly pallour of his silky smooth skin. Shoulder length hair cascades downward along his lean features, taking on a similar shade to his skin though slightly more metallic in nature. Intricately marked over his right eye is a tattoo, seeming to take on a scar-like appearance, and another similar mark has been burned apon his right arm, the image pointing downwards to dextrous fingers, those of a pianist rather than a murderer. Valdus enjoys dressing eccentrically, often favouring a jutting, crownlike headpiece, crafted from an unidentifiable metal. A high-collared jerkin, a darkened brown in colour, covers his torso. A similar structured pair of leggings is held up by a linked belt, various gems encrusted in it, helping protect his lower regions. Metallic shoulderpads, also inset with several jewels, jut precariously out and hold together a tattered, brown cape, attatched in the middle of his chest by a small pendant of a skull... Dispite Valdus's most eccentric appearance, he seems to be well mannered, if boastful at times, and he often refers to himself as a lord, his reasons for this being his own. The man definitely seems not to be much of a warrior, bieng too graceful - his muscles are toned, but not overly large as though he is used to wielding a weapon. Of course, if the man would grin at you, perhaps you may notice a pair of elongated canine teeth gleaming dully at you. Perhaps you may also notice that, though his body states he is around 25 years old, his eyes say far, far more...

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A'lai

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Ah, A'lai. A curious creature. He was summoned by a powerful conjurer and allowed to remain on this plane of existance when his master met with an unfortunate death. Now he wanders this strange, new world, with new laws of physics, and many more creatures to study, and perhaps sate his thirst with. What was the magicians purpose for calling this creature to this land, though? His bodily makup seems to well structured to be a simple messenger, running basic errands for a slave-driving master. He seems too regal, holding himself above the meagre citizens of this place to be a simple serf, serving under someone. The truth is, of course, that he was called to kill. His powerful bodily structure suited perfectly for guarding and assassinating ..... A'lai is able to endure far more damage to his body than many others in this land, shrugging off mortal wounds as though they were only annoyances. He is perfectly capable of betraying his closest ally, or aiding a mortal enemy. The reason behind this, is simply becuase he is in complete control of his emotions, not allowing them to overcome him, as others do ----- Since A'lai is new to this place, let alone plane of existance, he knows extremely little about it, not even knowing all of the common language in the place or how to act. He cannot understand the majority of body language or facial expressions, but sometimes mimics the actions and words others speak to learn them. Due to his incredible adaptivity and intelligence, however, he will be extremely quick to learn ----- The first thing one may notice to suggest this creature is not all that it may seem, is its eyes. Unblinking, silver-metallic orbs that seem to bore into the very soul of who he is looking at. The colour of his eyes match with his steely hair, naturally spiked upwards and parted in the middle. His hair is short-cut, but emphasises his lean features and high cheekbones. A regal coat, high collared and raven-black with gold embroidered on the rims, is always thrown over his muscular figure, accompanied by an equally noble pair of leggings. Finely made leather boots adorn his feet, and the only other accessory on him is a bracelet of faded crimson beads, most probably fake and worth nothing. His body exhudes an aura of anti-magic about him, and most spells cast apon him will either have a reduced effect, or simply fizzle out and denature into the raw components that the spell was made of. He is also able to absorb magic and use it to his will. -- --- A'lai is a creature able to manipulate, decieve and injure any he desires to, and he is named in such a way that describes all this, as "A'lai" is a title given to him by his summoner, in the creatures own language - Corruption.

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Uriel

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Uriels Summons

1. Heiroph

2. Blayze

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harkening from the Northen, icy wastes of this odd nexus, Uriel brings with him an almost insatiable curiousity for all things. He had spent his early days and teenage life training diligently in the frozen tundra of his homelands, testing his skills and abilities on the various creatures there, from winter wolves, to bears, and even the occasional Frost Wyrm. Though he may not be perfectly skilled with all his weapons, he is intelligent, and uses tactics to overcome brute force. All the same, he is unable to keep up with these supernatural biengs, such as the deadly vampires in this place. So how does he deal with the dangerous foes? First, he has extensive control over temperature, able to change the degrees of a room from excrutiatingly hot to sub-zero temperatures in a matter of seconds. Of course, this is useful to snuff out fireballs coming his way, and to melt shards of magical ice, too. This is not the extent of his abilities, however. No, his main defence is his ability to summon. To conjure forth a creature to do his bidding, whether it be running errands, scouting or defending against something. His small variety of beasts serve as a great defence, though he can only call forth one or two at the one time - Retaining control over these monsters is difficult work, and if he is knocked out, killed or otherwise disabled, he would lost control and his beasts may attack random people! ----- Uriel is dressed in princely garments. Why? Simply because - in his home lands - he was regarded highly, perhaps as important as a prince. A dark sapphire headband is pulled around his forehead, pushing back a large amount of his navy-blue hair, which is tied in a neat ponytail behind his head. Several locks of his hair still fall down in front of his eyes, however, which sparkle the same near-black as that hair but with faint glints of white, as though it were snowing in those icy pools. The cold gaze cast by these eyes seem to fit strangely with his lean face, leaving an odd, though handsome face. His bloodless lips, similar in colour to his pale skin, do smile on occasion, though only when he genuinely feels like smiling, for he holds no falsehoods with him. The rest of his body is covered in some way or another, thick shoulderpads fall down behind his back into a blue cape, and these pads, which offer slight protection to his body, are held together by a brass lining, layed with genuine jade gems. A similar gem is inset into the copper-linked belt which surrounds his midsection, holding his clothings tightly to his body. His clothing consists of various shades of blue, and covers his entire body to his ankles, where a set of comfortable, quiet leather boots are placed. His shirt arms are tucked into lengthy gloves, reaching almost elbow length. The man walks with an obvious grace that shows his nimbleness, and he holds a constant air of intrigue about him. Obviously, he isnt from around here. ((Due to his skill as a summoner, he is constantly aware of the life-force given off by creatures - even the undead. If there is reason for him not to sense it, please /whisper him about it.))...... Current summons(type /whois 'creature' to see its profile. Summon list will increase as character develops/learns more ^_^;): Heiroph, Blayze.

Hawke

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Hawkes Experience

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Who is Hawke? Hawke is a completely average man. He is currently only slightly muscled but his body has the capacity for huge bulk, strength and endurance. He is slightly smarter than average, though his mind is open and would be able to grasp vast amounts of intelligence and use of magic. He tries to make good decisions, but sometimes lets his anger overcome him. He could be spiritually aware, but he may choose to follow the path of good or evil... To the denizens of the keep, Hawke could be seen as clay, ready to be shaped, molded into anything. Hawkes development will be based solely on whoever manages to convince the man of their ways, whether influenced by money, the desire to learn, respect or even fear, Hawke's life will be altered. He may become a paladin, fighting for the greater good under the standard of his revered god. He may become a cruel and vicious magician, snuffing peoples lives with his spells. He may even become a beggar, or a slave. All this is up to others.

Phasma

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An apparition. A spectre, ghost, shade. Call it what you will, this is what it seems to be. But, it is not. Or, at least, not completely; This creature never died. Several centuries ago, a signifigantly powerful, and indeniably insane warlock focussed his work apon studying the makeup of the 'ghosts' that appear every once in a while to torment victims who had done their earlier, living selves some great evil. The man was intrigued by their indesctructability, their lack of form, and most of all, their immortality. The warlock, of course, was mortal and aging quite rapidly, so therefore lusted for a way to cancel his aging process. Using his gained knowledge of apparitions, he infused himself with the raw energy of the wraith-kind. Unfortunately for him, he had not done enough prior study, so, as this transformation had taken place, the energy warped his body, and tore away his soul, shredded it and replaced it, segmented around the husk of his body. Thus Phasma was created; a creature with everlasting 'life'. As with all ghosts, its telekinetic, empathic and telepathic skills have increased dramatically - far more so than when the creature was a mortal. Due to its warlock heritage, it can still cast a bountiful amount of spells, but those spells are warped with shadow magic, altering both their power, and the effects they have on people. This creatures appearance has been altered with his 'crossing over' and due to his four milennia existance, his evolving rate having increased dramatically. Its fingers are now warped - thinned and pointed to the end, making them not fingers at all, but rather, huge claws. A thin, black substance seems forever excreted apon this claws. A poison? Perhaps... perhaps something more than that... Within his mouth resides sharpened teeth, and a twin pair of fangs on both upper and lower jawline. He seems completely naked, but his form seems to blur where his genitalia would reside, and those who watch him may find their gaze raised inexplicably to his own features anyway. This beast seems to have a set of tendrily, wraithlike wings, though they are unneeded for him to fly or glide. He also boasts a pair of extensions from the upper-side of his head, though these seem to be almost mist in the insubstantiality. He, too, can become insubstantial at will, and even completely invisible. Phasma is able to penetrate the very minds of most people, whispering devious thoughts into their consciousness, and manipulating others lives in such a manner. This fiends voice seems to be nothing more than the cry of a tortured soul in the wind which forms eerie, whispered words which change tone frequently. If it wishes to converse, it can do so, though most of its words are arrogant, looking down apon what he deems to be 'mortals' - which includes near everybody. During Phasma's countless years of bieng what he is, he has traversed many lands and dimensions, corrupting and manipulating. Until now, finally, he has found himself within the humble realm of the Keep - never before has he seen such a variety of mystical creatures to feed from and decieve...

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Elquin

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Returned. Finally. That ancient werewolf which had lurked the forests of the keep almost a year ago. That ancient werewolf which regarded most of humankind with nothing but contempt. Yes, Elquin has seen many humans in his lifetime - and nearly all of them thought of the Garou - the noble defenders of life and nature, - as simple werewolves - bloodthirsty, senseless and intent on killing the 'noble' humans. It sickened him. The stories which the mothers tell their children - whether they believed it themselves, or wished to scare them into sleep - Infuriated this man. And thus, he has restricted himself mainly to forests, only rarely emerging into civilisation..... Untamed, raven-black shoulder length hair cascades down, ringing his lean, stony features. Those eyes - deep, also black, but seemedly tinged with a faint, emerald hue, stare intensly - their vision far more enhanced than that of a humans, or even many vampires'. Even in complete human form, the mans hands hold wickedly curved claws, extending from where fingernails should be. Such is the alteration given to him for have two Garou as parents. Moving on, however - The mans clothing consists of a hardened, leather vest, covering only his upper-torso, similar in size to a breastplate. This vest holds various clawmarks, weaponmarks and even scorches from magic spells, and is adorned with the mans own blood - though dried. A blackened, leather jacket is thrown almost carelessly over his shoulders, left open to reveal his midsection, and that 'breastplate' of leather. This jacket holds countless tears and gashes in the fabric, however - who knows HOW long the man has had it... Long leggings are placed apon him, the same colour as the jacket and with as many holes and slashes. A rather large battle-axe is hung apon his back, the weapon heavy and servicable, and an ironic wolf-head, carved with great detail, is attatched apon the end. The mans skin regenerates almost as quickly as a Vampires, but unfortunately, he retains any scars which has been made upon him. And thus, multitudes of rents in his skin line his chest, stomach, arms and legs. Fortunately, however, only a few are visible on his face. Be you humanlike: Whether elf, dwarf or otherwise, 'ware what you say to this creature, as he has low tolerance for the people he used to be proud to protect... ((Artwork By, and copywrighted by Eden Celeste - Used with permission.))

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