Name: Darian Veregon
Age: Late 20s, Early 30s. Exact age unknown.
Race: Human.
Height: 5'9"
Weight: 158 lbs.
Skin tone: Tanned, Caucasian.
Gender: Male
Eye Color: Green.
Hair Color: Black.
Occupation: Priest
Appearance: Darian is a muscular man, his rugged features almost wild looking. His hair is messy, hanging down his back to his shoulders, and he has scars along his arms that are visible when they are showing. His eyes are vibrant, and almost seem to glow when he is speaking passionately.
Personality: Though quiet, Darian is generally kind to those around him. He has a tendency to keep to himself, but will always jump to help someone in danger or great need. Those who befriend him are never forgotten, and he gifts what he can to the less fortunate. He has an almost superstitious attitude, and he can be heard muttering prayers from time to time. He often says kind words to passers by when they speak to him, and he will always impart a blessing to one who asks. He is fiercely devoted to Rage, in spite of being terrified of his destiny. He will not hesitate to punish blasphemy.
Bio:
Born beyond the threshold of civilization, there are no accurate records of Darian's birth or his upbringing. It is presumed he had a normal mother and father, though whether his childhood was equally normal is debatable. From short conversations with the man, several people were able to piece together than he was something of an enigma, wandering through Althanas for reasons beyond his own comprehension.
The truth was, Darian couldn't remember. Nothing prior to his teenage was accessible in his mind, washed away as though it had never existed. There were multiple attempts earlier on in his life to rehabilitate his memory, to no avail. Instead of dwelling on a past he became increasingly sure would remain a mystery to him, Darian opted to seek out a purpose for the rest of his life that he might find meaning in it.
Having spent several years in various places, Darian became intimately involved with different cultures and their people, learning how best to interact with them and coming to understand their qualities, both positive and negative. Because of this, he has skill in various languages, notably the common tongues of traders, several at I've languages, as well as a tongue thought lost to the ages. This "Ancientspeak," while it has no special powers, enables him to read most written languages if he puts forth a time consuming effort.
For the most part, Darian was a scholar for the majority of the years he can remember. He spent time learning several arts to defend himself along his journey, and trained in the knowledge of a variety of martial weapons. His weapon of choice was the hand axe, or tomahawk, as it was colloquially known.
Along his way, Darian met a dark traveler who told him that he knew of Darian's origins. Confused and caught in the allure of the claim, Darian followed him to his campsite, where the man wove a tale of the world's beginning, flames stirring mystically and stars blinking in the sky. Darian was transfixed by the tale, though he was disheartened to learn that the man had known nothing of his parentage or birth.
When the traveler learned of Darian's predicament, he profusely apologized for the misconception, but told the man of another tale that had been passed down through his religion for many long years. "A man, devoid of self, with no beginning but a thousand ends will one day awaken."
This short line baffled Darian, but he continued to listen, entranced. The man went on to explain, "a man has only one birth, but to not remember anything about that circumstance- parents, youth, birthplace, day of birth- that is an oddity. One that can easily be solved, in most instances. But you are special. You have no beginning that can be known by man."
Darian considered this. Everything the man had told him to this point was certainly true. So why not this? Why should he not accept that he had no beginning? The rush of emptiness was almost instant; he could feel the cold beneath his flesh like a plague, as though his body had been flushed of spirit, and he had become a vessel.
Chilled, Darian bid the man continue, less afraid than he liked. "A man has many paths he can take. Thousands, billions. All of them end in death. Such is the curse of mortality." At this, Darian had nodded. That was certainly true. "But you are a door, Darian. You are the pathway between worlds."
Darian made to speak, but the fire between them whispered out, and in the darkness, Darian knew he was alone. The last words echoed in his mind, about how he was a pathway, but he could make no sense of them. The only thing he knew any different than what he knew before was a single word. "Rage."
At first, the man had tried to make sense of it. Rage was Anger, right? Why was that in his thoughts? And like a poison, the idea got under his skin. Irritated, Darian's emptiness grew, followed swiftly by bitterness, loneliness, and finally, rage. As he continued his journey, he began to curse the man for enlightening him, for what sort of knowledge was this that made life so cold?
Then, Darian found it. In the quiet of his journey, he came upon a coven of brothers. Men who had either met the man he had, or believed the same as him. He remained among them for a matter of months, learning their ways, coming to better understand the religion, and the things he had been told. But he kept the matter of prophecy that had been rendered unto him to himself.
As fate would have it, the name of their god was Rage. It was an elemental entity, embodied in the anger of all living things. The heat of hatred, of love, of anger and of happiness all became a single thing, and that was Rage. A misconception to believe that it was mere violence, they said: Rage was made manifest in all things.
His wrath was the power men had learned to fear. "There is a doorway between our world and Rage," they told him. "That door exists to pass judgment on us. On our world. One day, Rage will bless us with his judgment. And on that day, we will bring Rage to the world."
Darian was terrified and awestruck by this revelation. He was to be the reckoning of some pagan god? In his fear, and his anger, Darian fled the brotherhood in the night, taking only the clothes on his back, the Scriptures of Rage- that he might better understand his destiny and, with some luck, control himself- and his tomahawk.
Equipment: Leather armor, Dark colored wool cloak, iron tomahawk.
Languages: Tradespeak, Ancientspeak
Skills: Reading
Survival
Basic Weapons Knowledge
Fitness
Unarmed Combat (Proficient)
Weapon: Tomahawk (Adept)
Knowledge: Religion (Rage)
Abilities:
Blessing of Rage: Twice per thread, Darian can call upon the Blessing of Rage, bestowing the warmth of his god to a person or item. A person invigorated by this ability is resistant to the cold (taking half of normal damage from cold based magic or weather), and moves at 1.5x normal speed for 2 posts thereafter. A weapon imbued with the blessing becomes consumed in the flames of Rage, inflicting minor burns as well as cutting or bludgeoning.
Swing Through: Darian masters his strength and swings his tomahawk mightily. This can shatter any substance equal to or less than the density of Iron. Can be used three times in a thread.
Unleash: Darian falls into the depths of his rage. In this state, he deals 2x damage and takes ×.5 damage. Can be used once per thread, lasts for 4 posts. When he exits his rage, he is extremely fatigued.
Submit Thread for Judgment
