Post by Deumos Ruax-Zephyr on Jul 14, 2012 23:41:57 GMT -5
Name: Deumos Ruax-Zephyr
Nickname(s): N/A
Played by: Tippy
Age: 13
Sexuality: Pansexual
Date of Birth: August 8
Host: Fire Angel/Water Angel
Abilities: Warmth (his primary abilities will favor his Dark/Fire Angel side)
Secondary Abilities: none as of yet (his secondary abilities will favor his Light/Water Angel side)
Loyalty: To the Angels
Status/Occupation: Student under the watchful eye of his restrictive father.
Appearance: Being young, his features are still rounded and he is still short at 4'9". Due to the often growth spurts, he sometimes can be found tripping over his own feet in short moments of clumsiness, being unaccustomed to how fast his body is growing its porportions. He has had pale skin from living in the Homeland, but since coming to Litharia he has developed a pale-peach skin tone. Despite being so young, he has developed powerful, big black wings. Messy, short dark brown hair crowns his head and accentuates bright blue eyes and a straight nose. His face is usually somber, and it is a rare occasion indeed when one can see him auctually smiling. He has an over-fondness for big, light brown jackets.
Companion: His companion, a Buirhi named Sheranth, is a tall adult female, and she's capable of breathing fire. Despite his apparent detachment from everything, Deumos Ruax-Zephyr is auctually quite fond of his dragon-wolf.
Personality: Having grown up in his somber household, Deumos Ruax-Zephyr has developed a completely serious outlook on everything. He doesn't understand humour, which often gets him into awkward situations when trying to deal with Litharians. If someone is joking with him, he often will not reckognize it and treat the joke as if it were stated seriously. He tends to be very intense about everything he does, which can be off-putting at times. Having been trained his whole life but not exposed to any normal humanoid interaction, Deumos Ruax-Zephyr is somewhat lacking in social skills. He doesn't generally know how a normal person would react to situations normally. When he speaks, his wording is always very formal. He is quiet, trying not to speak as often as possible. He avoids social interaction if he can, find it "unnessescary and irrelevant".
History: Deumos Ruax-Zephyr was born on the 8th of August to a pair of warrior Angels. His father, Belial, was a Fire Angel, and his mother, Casserrah, was a Water Angel. Their union was not one of passionate love, but rather of convenience in order to bring about another soldier to the cause of the Angels. He was means to the desired end, and they treated him as such; Deumos Ruax-Zephyr received no affection from his parents. He was raised as a soldier, for the purpose of being a soldier.
At the age of two, he was given a wooden knife, and taught to use it as he grew. When he was four, he was given an auctual knife, and learned how to adjust to it. He also started his lessons. His day consisted of lessons: the history of the Angels, weapons practice, his language lessons and how to read and write, mathematics, more weapons practice. His meals were standard military fare, just like his parent's.
The praise he received was rare and he craved it, just like he craved his parent's approval. Though he never recieved smiles, the occasional "You have done well, Deumos Ruax-Zephyr" made his heart leap in joy, and he lived for those few and rare compliments. His parents always used his full name when speaking to him, as did the few other Angels that visited his residence. He was raised in a world where everything was order, and he loved it that way. Deumos Ruax-Zephyr was in training to be the perfect soldier.
He never met anyone his own age, and the only other beings he met besides his parents were his lesson-teachers and those strange, quiet Angels who visited his parents. He was always curious as to what Belial and Casserrah would talk to these angels about in hushed voices. His parents would leave sometimes, sometimes for a very long time, but they would always come back.
That is, until Casserrah didn't.
He was seven years old. He cried when his father told him that Casserrah had died, and his father had scolded him and beaten him for the tears, and Deumos Ruax-Zephyr quickly learned that good soldiers didn't cry. And so he didn't. His father told him that Casserrah had died in the war of the Angels' cause, and that her death was not in vain. Belial told Deumos Ruax-Zephyr that if he was a good soldier, that someday he, too, may have the honour of dying in battle.
When he was eight years old, he was given an adult female Buirhi, a dragon-wolf, named Sheranth. He was also given many different weapons to choose from for the next weapon he would master. He chose the mabo, a throwing knife made of three different blades and a handle, a weapon that looked silly but had a knack for murdering wickedly. He went to work immediately, first master mounted combat on his Buirhi with his knife and then going to work gaining mastery over the mabo.
It took him four years until his father believed that he was ready to go out and experience the world. Of course, this experience had to be done without his father's help, without his teacher's help. Deumos Ruax-Zephyr was going to Litharia, and there he would stay and gather information like only a harmless child could. He would make a wonderful spy. And an even better soldier.
Roleplay Sample:
"Deumos Ruax-Zephyr." Belial's voice cracked like a whip, just as fast and almost as painful. Deumos resisted the urge to jump from where he was sitting, inscribing Litharian glyphs on a sheet of ivory parchment. He wasn't afraid of his father, but Belial certainly was intimidating. But he refused to be afraid; it would only be a weakness and a hindrance. Besides, the last time he had shown fear openly, he had gotten a beating. Nothing good came out of being afriad of Belial.
He set his quil on the table carefully, making sure not to disturb the inkwell, and straightened into near-perfect posture and stood in place, unmoving, his eyes fixed on a spot in the distance. "Yes, sir," he answered quietly. Belial hated it when people raised their voices.
Belial said nothing, only circled Deumos, exuding the air of a great hunting cat, his eyes fixated on the boy. Deumos remained still, not moving a single muscle. They remained like that for half an hour before Belial suddenly drew a knife from his belt and let it fly with a flick of his hand. Deumos swayed of the way in time and unthinkingly set his own knife, a small silver thing he kept in the pocket of his light brown coat, whistling through the air, only repeating his many lessons on this exact situation. As soon as the knife flew, his hand dropped down to his belt and seized the mabo that was his trusted weapon as of the moment.
Belial, evidently, was not expecting the retaliation.
The knife sliced the edge of his cheek, and then embedded itself in the wall behind Belial. The man appeared shocked for a moment, reaching a hand up and dabbing his fingers in the blood welling from the slice on his cheek. Then a savage expression appeared on his face as he lashed out a hand and lashed out with fire, hitting Deumos squarely in the chest and sending him flying back into the bookshelves. Several heavy books dislodged and fell, one catching Deumos right in between his shoulderblades, at the point where his wings joined together. He would have screamed with pain but he learned long ago that screaming brought nothing except more pain; such was the life of a soldier. Instead, he stayed where he was, spawled on the floor, breathing slightly heavier than usual and looking up at Belial with a carefully placed, somber expression, hoping that the hurt wasn't showing in his bright blue eyes.
The man glared at him a few moments more before bursting into laughter. "Deumos Ruax-Zephyr. You have grown." These words, Deumos could feel, were the preamble to something even more frightening. But Belial would not continue, merely looking at Deumos with an expression that made him realize, after far too many moments, that the man was expecting words in response.
He held Belial's gaze with his own blue eyes, and stated carefully, "I do not understand."
Another laugh. "Oh, but you will. You, Deumos Ruax-Zephyr, are going to Litharia."
Nickname(s): N/A
Played by: Tippy
Age: 13
Sexuality: Pansexual
Date of Birth: August 8
Host: Fire Angel/Water Angel
Abilities: Warmth (his primary abilities will favor his Dark/Fire Angel side)
Secondary Abilities: none as of yet (his secondary abilities will favor his Light/Water Angel side)
Loyalty: To the Angels
Status/Occupation: Student under the watchful eye of his restrictive father.
Appearance: Being young, his features are still rounded and he is still short at 4'9". Due to the often growth spurts, he sometimes can be found tripping over his own feet in short moments of clumsiness, being unaccustomed to how fast his body is growing its porportions. He has had pale skin from living in the Homeland, but since coming to Litharia he has developed a pale-peach skin tone. Despite being so young, he has developed powerful, big black wings. Messy, short dark brown hair crowns his head and accentuates bright blue eyes and a straight nose. His face is usually somber, and it is a rare occasion indeed when one can see him auctually smiling. He has an over-fondness for big, light brown jackets.
Companion: His companion, a Buirhi named Sheranth, is a tall adult female, and she's capable of breathing fire. Despite his apparent detachment from everything, Deumos Ruax-Zephyr is auctually quite fond of his dragon-wolf.
Personality: Having grown up in his somber household, Deumos Ruax-Zephyr has developed a completely serious outlook on everything. He doesn't understand humour, which often gets him into awkward situations when trying to deal with Litharians. If someone is joking with him, he often will not reckognize it and treat the joke as if it were stated seriously. He tends to be very intense about everything he does, which can be off-putting at times. Having been trained his whole life but not exposed to any normal humanoid interaction, Deumos Ruax-Zephyr is somewhat lacking in social skills. He doesn't generally know how a normal person would react to situations normally. When he speaks, his wording is always very formal. He is quiet, trying not to speak as often as possible. He avoids social interaction if he can, find it "unnessescary and irrelevant".
History: Deumos Ruax-Zephyr was born on the 8th of August to a pair of warrior Angels. His father, Belial, was a Fire Angel, and his mother, Casserrah, was a Water Angel. Their union was not one of passionate love, but rather of convenience in order to bring about another soldier to the cause of the Angels. He was means to the desired end, and they treated him as such; Deumos Ruax-Zephyr received no affection from his parents. He was raised as a soldier, for the purpose of being a soldier.
At the age of two, he was given a wooden knife, and taught to use it as he grew. When he was four, he was given an auctual knife, and learned how to adjust to it. He also started his lessons. His day consisted of lessons: the history of the Angels, weapons practice, his language lessons and how to read and write, mathematics, more weapons practice. His meals were standard military fare, just like his parent's.
The praise he received was rare and he craved it, just like he craved his parent's approval. Though he never recieved smiles, the occasional "You have done well, Deumos Ruax-Zephyr" made his heart leap in joy, and he lived for those few and rare compliments. His parents always used his full name when speaking to him, as did the few other Angels that visited his residence. He was raised in a world where everything was order, and he loved it that way. Deumos Ruax-Zephyr was in training to be the perfect soldier.
He never met anyone his own age, and the only other beings he met besides his parents were his lesson-teachers and those strange, quiet Angels who visited his parents. He was always curious as to what Belial and Casserrah would talk to these angels about in hushed voices. His parents would leave sometimes, sometimes for a very long time, but they would always come back.
That is, until Casserrah didn't.
He was seven years old. He cried when his father told him that Casserrah had died, and his father had scolded him and beaten him for the tears, and Deumos Ruax-Zephyr quickly learned that good soldiers didn't cry. And so he didn't. His father told him that Casserrah had died in the war of the Angels' cause, and that her death was not in vain. Belial told Deumos Ruax-Zephyr that if he was a good soldier, that someday he, too, may have the honour of dying in battle.
When he was eight years old, he was given an adult female Buirhi, a dragon-wolf, named Sheranth. He was also given many different weapons to choose from for the next weapon he would master. He chose the mabo, a throwing knife made of three different blades and a handle, a weapon that looked silly but had a knack for murdering wickedly. He went to work immediately, first master mounted combat on his Buirhi with his knife and then going to work gaining mastery over the mabo.
It took him four years until his father believed that he was ready to go out and experience the world. Of course, this experience had to be done without his father's help, without his teacher's help. Deumos Ruax-Zephyr was going to Litharia, and there he would stay and gather information like only a harmless child could. He would make a wonderful spy. And an even better soldier.
Roleplay Sample:
"Deumos Ruax-Zephyr." Belial's voice cracked like a whip, just as fast and almost as painful. Deumos resisted the urge to jump from where he was sitting, inscribing Litharian glyphs on a sheet of ivory parchment. He wasn't afraid of his father, but Belial certainly was intimidating. But he refused to be afraid; it would only be a weakness and a hindrance. Besides, the last time he had shown fear openly, he had gotten a beating. Nothing good came out of being afriad of Belial.
He set his quil on the table carefully, making sure not to disturb the inkwell, and straightened into near-perfect posture and stood in place, unmoving, his eyes fixed on a spot in the distance. "Yes, sir," he answered quietly. Belial hated it when people raised their voices.
Belial said nothing, only circled Deumos, exuding the air of a great hunting cat, his eyes fixated on the boy. Deumos remained still, not moving a single muscle. They remained like that for half an hour before Belial suddenly drew a knife from his belt and let it fly with a flick of his hand. Deumos swayed of the way in time and unthinkingly set his own knife, a small silver thing he kept in the pocket of his light brown coat, whistling through the air, only repeating his many lessons on this exact situation. As soon as the knife flew, his hand dropped down to his belt and seized the mabo that was his trusted weapon as of the moment.
Belial, evidently, was not expecting the retaliation.
The knife sliced the edge of his cheek, and then embedded itself in the wall behind Belial. The man appeared shocked for a moment, reaching a hand up and dabbing his fingers in the blood welling from the slice on his cheek. Then a savage expression appeared on his face as he lashed out a hand and lashed out with fire, hitting Deumos squarely in the chest and sending him flying back into the bookshelves. Several heavy books dislodged and fell, one catching Deumos right in between his shoulderblades, at the point where his wings joined together. He would have screamed with pain but he learned long ago that screaming brought nothing except more pain; such was the life of a soldier. Instead, he stayed where he was, spawled on the floor, breathing slightly heavier than usual and looking up at Belial with a carefully placed, somber expression, hoping that the hurt wasn't showing in his bright blue eyes.
The man glared at him a few moments more before bursting into laughter. "Deumos Ruax-Zephyr. You have grown." These words, Deumos could feel, were the preamble to something even more frightening. But Belial would not continue, merely looking at Deumos with an expression that made him realize, after far too many moments, that the man was expecting words in response.
He held Belial's gaze with his own blue eyes, and stated carefully, "I do not understand."
Another laugh. "Oh, but you will. You, Deumos Ruax-Zephyr, are going to Litharia."