Post by B.lood on Aug 22, 2007 12:26:49 GMT -5
I am called...
Tohr'hyn
I was forged...
male
I am labelled a...
drow
I feel pledged to...
fire
I am aged by...
651 years
I appear as though...
a wry creator has produced a dark new face.
His overall appearance is that of an average drow: dark skin, pale eyes, and severely contrasted white hair. Yet, unlike most of his bethren his eyes are not red, and his pupil is not so narrow. His mutilated past has corrupted the natural genetics of his breed and he can see only what the light provides. Unnaturally so, his eyes are silver, outined by a faded dark blue color that pulsates with his changing moods, and whatever infrared they may have one day seen is now but a distant memory. Nolonger does he bear that advanatage.
His dark skin is paler than most, bearing a greyer tone than that of black, and upon the flesh of his jaw is a brand of sorts, depicted in a double triangle upon each side of his dark face. It is a brand of ownership that he has long since forsaken.
His attire is generally constructed of black rawhide or leather, of which is held tight to his body, providing better versatility for the dangerous vagrant.
I am like...
a dark character, merciless in manner and tongue. He has a knack for picking out a company's physical or emotional weaknesses and exploiting them. He almost enjoys to see the discomfort of others and takes deep pride in his abbility to intimidate. Yet, he is not overly dominant at first impressions. He is a very smooth, very calm, tactical man and has a polite tone to his voice that seemed to linger within every consonant, every vowel. Often times he may appear and sound like a gentleman even when his words openly mock or fiercely condescend an associate. His words are very blatant and seem to project neither fear nor self control as he says what's on his mind. Back stabbins and hidden devilries bore him and thus he's not really known to manipulate or plot behind the sidelines. If he hates you, he'll tell you. If he intends to harm or kill you, he'll tell you. He finds its more challanging and far more interesting that way. Perhaps this is why he does not have many friends. His personality is almost strange and his blunt tactics can be rather surprising. Yet, he still possesses wrath and anger: two very dangerous charactertics of his persona. Amazingly enough, however, he is not easily upset as he's found that showing his dislike in vengefull manners are useless and only satisfy the opponent. When truly irritated, he is not afraid to "express" samples of his gift to threaten and intimidate. Yet his composure never falters. His tone does carry a more malicious key, but his uncanilly polite visage is hard to bend. He's firm within his own mind and know's where he stands in his descisions. It is rare for him to contradict himself or bear conflicting morals. Afterall, he has only a few--if any at all.
He's also not afraid of death. This comes to point at his confidence and his relationship with the strange magics of the world. His past has made him bitter to most military officials--doesn't matter which God or Goddess they idolize--yet one would never know it because it is a darkness that nolonger pains him and he the memories well. He often finds no need and feels no isolating draw towards a civialized and sociable life. In general he dislikes all other intellectual creatures and thus does not work to establish a relationship. He is a true longer and he likes it that way. He has both a freedom and an anonymous characteristic that makes it easy to disapear if such a retreat is desirable. He doesn't have allies and does only what is suitable for himself. If there is not personal gain, he loses interest. Be careful around him; he's smart, methodical, unpredictable, and unsociable... and that's what makes him a deady aquaintance.
I am gifted, but...
what used to be fire is now an agent of death.
Like many other manipulators and mages, Tohr can produce and control a black acrid smoke, called Drosen. Emited from the tips of his fingers, when engaged the produced acrid stench is lethal to all who inhale it. It is a suffocating agent, and does it's work quickly and effectively. Physical contact with the concentrated doses that collected upon his skin, cause corrsive abrasions and dissolve tissues, reacting and circulating throughout the blood stream, causing excruciating burning pain, if not death. The initial reaction to the contagent is a bitter cold, that eventually evolves into that livid sensation of white fire.
However, this is a magic and not a physical property of Tohr's genetics. Though he himself is immune to its effects, they are controlled by his mind and magical reserves. Thus to mute his mind with a drug or influence his conscience, could be a logical maneuver to keep the drow from emitting the deadly phumes.
It is also safe to say, that only when he is producing the smoke, is he dangerous. The residue from the productions does not last long upon his skin and easily washes off, becoming harmless when connecting with water.
Yet do not be fooled, he's not harmless. His body is toned and modified to take the strain of prolonged labor and work, making him deathly efficient within a fight. His skills revolve around the handling of a thin sharp sword, and his speed makes him formidable.
Sample Post/history:
Tohr'hyn was born your typical drow. His life revolved around the dark dieties of his people, and he was as equal to a slave to his fellow sisters and mothers--as is custom among the drow. He was just a male. However, as he began to develope his skills were formidable and he began to grow into them even while he remained young. He had potential and that's what made him disirable.
While still reletively young, his House was raided by a rival clan, and he became an unfortunate captive within these raiders ranks. They promoted his naturally visage behavior as they worked and tested to see if magics could be influenced, developed and even changed. He was but one of their subjects, and he seemed promising within their work. Still all attempts always seem to fail and it took over 100 years to final perfect something astonishing.
He was their grandest achievement, a failed attempt nonetheless, but it was something. His magic, corrupted by their torments had mutated and become something very similiar to death itself. His fingers which used to be able to produce magics of fire, suddenly only gave smoke. Yet the acrid scent was formidable on its own and reaked of decay and death itself. Noxious to anyone who were to inhale its vapor it was a lethal concoction, and even his touch contained a poison--bringing death shortly to those who came in contact with his smoldering fingertips.
Do to the age of war, which seemed to still rage mutely above the surface of the underdark, Tohr was sold to a mercenary clan that was a small group of malitia and forsaken military forces. They bore no alliances and merely contributed to the war where it seemed fit--usually siding within whichever nation was currently paying the highest bounty.
It was only after the war that Tohr finally made his escape. Eluding his new imrisonment he kept to the night and hide within the recesses of the earth, lurking and stalking. He lives off the land and moved constantly, avoided intelligent contact and the village towns. He became invisible and some extent and his existance slowly faded over time. The monster he had become was now free, and his isolations slowly calmed his rage and made him something new, a calm, cold, collected killer. Still able to act as the instinctual and skilled mercenary that he'd been forged as, he was now able to think and methadically consider his options, making him wise, and making him smart.
He's still your typical drow, but with an unsual twist.
Tohr'hyn
I was forged...
male
I am labelled a...
drow
I feel pledged to...
fire
I am aged by...
651 years
I appear as though...
a wry creator has produced a dark new face.
His overall appearance is that of an average drow: dark skin, pale eyes, and severely contrasted white hair. Yet, unlike most of his bethren his eyes are not red, and his pupil is not so narrow. His mutilated past has corrupted the natural genetics of his breed and he can see only what the light provides. Unnaturally so, his eyes are silver, outined by a faded dark blue color that pulsates with his changing moods, and whatever infrared they may have one day seen is now but a distant memory. Nolonger does he bear that advanatage.
His dark skin is paler than most, bearing a greyer tone than that of black, and upon the flesh of his jaw is a brand of sorts, depicted in a double triangle upon each side of his dark face. It is a brand of ownership that he has long since forsaken.
His attire is generally constructed of black rawhide or leather, of which is held tight to his body, providing better versatility for the dangerous vagrant.
I am like...
a dark character, merciless in manner and tongue. He has a knack for picking out a company's physical or emotional weaknesses and exploiting them. He almost enjoys to see the discomfort of others and takes deep pride in his abbility to intimidate. Yet, he is not overly dominant at first impressions. He is a very smooth, very calm, tactical man and has a polite tone to his voice that seemed to linger within every consonant, every vowel. Often times he may appear and sound like a gentleman even when his words openly mock or fiercely condescend an associate. His words are very blatant and seem to project neither fear nor self control as he says what's on his mind. Back stabbins and hidden devilries bore him and thus he's not really known to manipulate or plot behind the sidelines. If he hates you, he'll tell you. If he intends to harm or kill you, he'll tell you. He finds its more challanging and far more interesting that way. Perhaps this is why he does not have many friends. His personality is almost strange and his blunt tactics can be rather surprising. Yet, he still possesses wrath and anger: two very dangerous charactertics of his persona. Amazingly enough, however, he is not easily upset as he's found that showing his dislike in vengefull manners are useless and only satisfy the opponent. When truly irritated, he is not afraid to "express" samples of his gift to threaten and intimidate. Yet his composure never falters. His tone does carry a more malicious key, but his uncanilly polite visage is hard to bend. He's firm within his own mind and know's where he stands in his descisions. It is rare for him to contradict himself or bear conflicting morals. Afterall, he has only a few--if any at all.
He's also not afraid of death. This comes to point at his confidence and his relationship with the strange magics of the world. His past has made him bitter to most military officials--doesn't matter which God or Goddess they idolize--yet one would never know it because it is a darkness that nolonger pains him and he the memories well. He often finds no need and feels no isolating draw towards a civialized and sociable life. In general he dislikes all other intellectual creatures and thus does not work to establish a relationship. He is a true longer and he likes it that way. He has both a freedom and an anonymous characteristic that makes it easy to disapear if such a retreat is desirable. He doesn't have allies and does only what is suitable for himself. If there is not personal gain, he loses interest. Be careful around him; he's smart, methodical, unpredictable, and unsociable... and that's what makes him a deady aquaintance.
I am gifted, but...
what used to be fire is now an agent of death.
Like many other manipulators and mages, Tohr can produce and control a black acrid smoke, called Drosen. Emited from the tips of his fingers, when engaged the produced acrid stench is lethal to all who inhale it. It is a suffocating agent, and does it's work quickly and effectively. Physical contact with the concentrated doses that collected upon his skin, cause corrsive abrasions and dissolve tissues, reacting and circulating throughout the blood stream, causing excruciating burning pain, if not death. The initial reaction to the contagent is a bitter cold, that eventually evolves into that livid sensation of white fire.
However, this is a magic and not a physical property of Tohr's genetics. Though he himself is immune to its effects, they are controlled by his mind and magical reserves. Thus to mute his mind with a drug or influence his conscience, could be a logical maneuver to keep the drow from emitting the deadly phumes.
It is also safe to say, that only when he is producing the smoke, is he dangerous. The residue from the productions does not last long upon his skin and easily washes off, becoming harmless when connecting with water.
Yet do not be fooled, he's not harmless. His body is toned and modified to take the strain of prolonged labor and work, making him deathly efficient within a fight. His skills revolve around the handling of a thin sharp sword, and his speed makes him formidable.
Sample Post/history:
Tohr'hyn was born your typical drow. His life revolved around the dark dieties of his people, and he was as equal to a slave to his fellow sisters and mothers--as is custom among the drow. He was just a male. However, as he began to develope his skills were formidable and he began to grow into them even while he remained young. He had potential and that's what made him disirable.
While still reletively young, his House was raided by a rival clan, and he became an unfortunate captive within these raiders ranks. They promoted his naturally visage behavior as they worked and tested to see if magics could be influenced, developed and even changed. He was but one of their subjects, and he seemed promising within their work. Still all attempts always seem to fail and it took over 100 years to final perfect something astonishing.
He was their grandest achievement, a failed attempt nonetheless, but it was something. His magic, corrupted by their torments had mutated and become something very similiar to death itself. His fingers which used to be able to produce magics of fire, suddenly only gave smoke. Yet the acrid scent was formidable on its own and reaked of decay and death itself. Noxious to anyone who were to inhale its vapor it was a lethal concoction, and even his touch contained a poison--bringing death shortly to those who came in contact with his smoldering fingertips.
Do to the age of war, which seemed to still rage mutely above the surface of the underdark, Tohr was sold to a mercenary clan that was a small group of malitia and forsaken military forces. They bore no alliances and merely contributed to the war where it seemed fit--usually siding within whichever nation was currently paying the highest bounty.
It was only after the war that Tohr finally made his escape. Eluding his new imrisonment he kept to the night and hide within the recesses of the earth, lurking and stalking. He lives off the land and moved constantly, avoided intelligent contact and the village towns. He became invisible and some extent and his existance slowly faded over time. The monster he had become was now free, and his isolations slowly calmed his rage and made him something new, a calm, cold, collected killer. Still able to act as the instinctual and skilled mercenary that he'd been forged as, he was now able to think and methadically consider his options, making him wise, and making him smart.
He's still your typical drow, but with an unsual twist.
