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((I submitted this character years ago, and really never got around to using him for more than two posts or so. I wanted to change around his image a little and made a few edits here and there, but the basic message is still the same. If I ought to just submit this as a new character, let me know.))
Name: Coin Serfaret
Age: 33
Race: Human/Risen Undead
Gender: Male
Class: Baron/Ghost Fencer
Height: 5'11"
Weight: 170 lbs
Physical Description: Coin stands at five feet and eleven inches tall, his body muscular and sleek in the way of a jungle cat. The man is a speed fighter, and one fully accustomed to using his body as a weapon in ways that others can't even begin to imagine. His eyes are a brilliant, otherworldly green, like radiation made liquid, pooled then stirred in a shallow gray ditch. His gaze is a difficult one to break away from by any man's standards, and it could really be best described as hungry; fey.
His hair, black and ragged, is cut haphazardly at various lengths and, in general, rests against his shoulders lifelessly, which is extremely fitting all things considered. Because of his shaky connection with the world of the living -- like a man living just slightly out of tune with everything around him -- its state doesn't always reflect what it should. To be specific, it may well whip about when there is no wind, or lay still in the middle of a storm. His own hands; his own will can actively help to shape his look, allowing him some small advantage in certain social situations.
Padded leather greaves cover the lower half of his body, the dusty brown bull-skin cracked and splitting in places from poor storage and a lack of care. Beneath them, black leather pants cover the rest of him, let out near the bottom to make room for his fencing boots. A bright red length of silk serves as a belt, tied off in a tight knot on one side of his hips, opposite his sword. His chest is covered by a sleeveless gray shirt worn under a dark vest. The man's right arm is firmly wrapped in black rags and a gauntlet, which cover the most visible mark of his return to the living world; nothing but bare bone can be found underneath, animate and quick and as hard as iron.
Personality: The things that have brought Coin to where he is today have made him something of a serious person...but they've also served to turn him into something of a hedonist. Although not one by the purest definition of the word, the pleasures offered in this world -- in most any form -- are of interest to him. Drugs, drinking, and women: just a few of the things that he fancies. Hand in hand with this fervor, however, is an air of being somewhat unbalanced by exposure to the beyond: nowhere close to mad, but not rooted in traditional thought as much as he is not rooted in this world.
And, needless to say, death or many of the world's horrors hold little terror for him.
Skills:
Ghost Fencing: Although his ties to the land of the dead and the spirit world (as well as the creatures that make such places their home) are all but useless for the time being, Coin is still in essence a ghost fencer. Innately beyond those mortals on his own loyly tier, it allows him a unique and deadly advantage against ordinary men. The strength of the grave flows through his splintered being -- not freely just yet, but a trickle of all the energies he previously held. His blows are stronger and faster than they ought to be -- at roughly twice the strength of a grown man.
All the same, the talents of his former life shine through his fall and resurrection, allowing him noteworthy skill with a small variety of blades. Although not a master by any standard, his new body has proven to be quite adept at melee combat. Although he prefers smaller arms, he was given instruction in the basic form and function of other tools, such as large swords and maces.
Deathlessness: Basic Knowledge: Fragmented knowledge of what is beyond the horizon; on the other side of the sky.
Singing: Coin has a fine voice, and while it's hardly as enchanting as a professional, one can consider him a talented amateur.
Equipment: Serfaret Guard Saber: Taken from the tombs of his family's ancient protectors before leaving the ruined estate with his brother, this is the simple fencing tool of a long-forgotten guard. Strong, but fairly unremarkable, Coin chose the blade for the simplicity thereof; trusted the lack of a higher nature within over that of his own sealed tools.
Fencing Leathers: Oddly preserved against the passage of time, this durable, flexible armor is perfectly suited to a gentleman fencer.
History:
The House of Serfaret...a minor family in the grand scheme of things, but on which has an unfortunate tendancy to align themselves with justice. Giving birth to any number of fine swordsmen and jacks-of-blades, the close ties and trust of its family saw it through purges and strikes by greater groups who would move against such a stinging thorn. Drawing their riches from mining and timber, the Serfereti also maintained a fairly tenacious position as a noteworthy supplyer to mercantile organizations over a wide area.
Their good lot, unfortunately, came to an end with the death of the Lord Baron Gishmael Serfaret, officially by illness; unofficially by poison.
The weakness in the change of leadership to his oldest son, Coin, was a chance that many of the enemies of the family saw fit to take advantage of. In his inexperience, lands and treaties were lost or hemmed from what they had been by tactics that his sire had been all too familiar with. Few in his clan blamed him, though, for these failures...he would have ample time to learn from his mistakes, they imagined, and become stronger because of them. The idea that their opponents would stoop so low as to resort to outright murder was, at the time, unthinkable; even between enemies, there were supposed to be rules.
How tragically wrong they proved to be.
In an act of unpredicted brutality, a shadowy alliance of clans struck against Coin and his younger brother, Viktor, in the early summer. The more venerable and powerful members of both the guard and the family were spread across the network of the group's interests, leaving their manse nearly without defenses. The two-dozen soldiers stationed at the grounds fought like bloody tigers, but fell almost to a man against the odds. Perhaps six escaped from the fray with their lives, if that, and none have been heard from since.
Viktor died at the gates, brought low by the portcullis and the sharp blades of the assassins. Selflessly and without thought for his own life, he dragged himself, torn and bleeding, through the halls of the mansion to warn his brother of the coming death, but was too late by far.
Coin, cut and wounded from dozens of slashes, breathed his last in the throne room of the house, as the sword of the lithe hunter Hector Velius pierced his throat, pinning him to the wall beside the great chair. The fact that he had killed better than fifteen men was for nothing...all was for nothing.
The brothers were dead; the Serferet were falling.
Unable to rest after their violent deaths, both for the pain of the end and for the shame of their failure, the two rose as ghosts, to haunt the halls of their decaying manse as it became broken and wasted before their very eyes. Powerful as his demise had made him, though, he little more than a whisper in the world of the living...and what power did a whisper have to give rise to revenge?
And so they made a plan...and made a pact.
A pact most vile.
Shedding their strength, Coin and Viktor gave rise to new life in their corpses; used their bitter lamentation to pierce the veil. Although imperfect and only a shadow of what they had been in either world, the brothers had returned, years later, to reclaim what had been stolen from them.
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Originally Posted by Logan
