Out of Character:
Name: Derris Warson
Age: 35 years living (est.); 700 years dead (est.)
Race: Human Undead
Hair Color: Mixed black, gray and white
Eye Color: Glassy red irises, with pink where there would normally be white
Height: 6'10"
Weight: 450 lbs. (est.)
Occupation: Previously unknown; currently a minion of Xem'zund (roughly analagous to a lieutenant or a personal attack dog)
Personality: Whatever Derris Warson's personality was in life, he no longer has it in death. As any one of Xem'zund's uncounted hordes of shambling corpses and monsters, Warson's mind is nothing more than a boiling hot mass of bad intentions; a near genius-level intellect locked away behind primal, unnatural savagery. He has no soul and no mercy, and his dedication to his overlord is tempered only by his willingness to do what it takes to keep surviving in Xem'zund's name. His tactical prowess is far above and beyond what you'd expect of a reanimated corpse, even if his ability to vocalize commands is little better than grunts, growls and screaming.
Appearance: An unliving hulk of doom if there ever was one. Even at a passing glance, and despite centuries of rot and decay taking their toll on his body, Warson still looks like a brick wall made out of muscle and covered in armor plating. His shoulders, biceps and arms are freakishly large, as are his chest and neck. His lower jaw may as well be made out of right-angled concrete, his eyes are beady, faded and bloody looking and his skin is completely stark white, not to mention surprisingly intact. Warson's hair is a dissheveled wreck, mostly grey with uneven streaks of black and white, and whole patches on his scalp have been left bare. He still wears the rusted, cracked and pitted armor of a warrior lord, which is also the only reason anyone still knows his name: It's carved into the left shoulderplate, just beneath where his original banner was. In spite of his monstrous appearance and personality though, the most disturbing aspect of Warson remains his smile: His teeth have become sharpened in undeath, to the point that his smile is practically made from interlocking spikes.
Skills and Abilities
Mixed Fighting: As a consequence of his background and current state of existence, Derris fighting style is an unpredictable mixture of proper human martial arts and animalistic violence. One moment, he's fighting like a man, and the next he's dodging around trying to bite your ankles off. When fighting like a man, he usually confines himself to the use of a ridiculously large warhammer or glaive, often supported by any number of smaller weapons and whatever else he can pick up (including his own 'comrades'). When fighting more like an animal, Derris uses his body itself as a weapon, augmented only by a pair of clawed gauntlets. It should be noted that when fighting animalistically, Derris is not only faster, but also much more agile. When fighting like a man, he's relatively slow, but considerably stronger (which, really, is saying something). The transition between the two is virtually instant.
Cry of Undeath: Nobody knows what Warson's voice sounded like in life. In death, it's taken on a distinctly monstrous quality, becoming inhumanly deep. Not only that, but his screams are so loud as to shatter bardic spellsongs by breaking concentration, though his voice can't quite deal physical damage on its own. To lesser warriors, his battlecries can dampen morale and even cause mild vertigo.
Note: Vertigo and morale dampening only effective against low-level NPCs (0-3) and lower-level characters (0-1); the latter only if the player in question wants it.
Soulless Gaze: As a consequence of being a genuinely soulless abomination, to look directly into Warson's eyes is to look directly beyond the curtain of death itself. While outright hallucinations are rare, it's not uncommon for Warson's gaze to paralyze some people with fear, while instilling in others the hopeless image of their own death and eternal suffering, whether they can fight through it or not. Prolonged eye contact, even if the effect of fear is broken, can cause a deep, loathsome cold to plague a victim for up to an hour or so.
No Gain, No Pain: Another mixed consequence of his true undead status: Warson will never advance in power beyond where he's at now. Short of someone else powering him up using necromancy or enchantment, he is at his final limit. Another consequence of this true undead status is that Warson is utterly immune to pain: You could chop his arms off and he wouldn't even blink (not that he blinks anyway). He's obtained antimmortality, and only magic or complete destruction will truly kill him. Another consequence is that he'll also never heal from new injuries unless specifically mended by a necromancer.
Undead Strength: A normally passive ability, manifesting only when Derris fights as a man. The source of his undead strength is unknown; it may tie directly to the magicks used to animate him, or it may come from the unknowable beyond that awaits us all. Regardless, Derris Warson bears more pure, physical strength than almost any living man. He could tear a redwood out of the ground and use it like a baseball bat, nevermind the kind of horrors he could inflict on a normal person. When fighting animalistically, Warson loses his undead strength; while still ridiculously strong, it's actually a good bit less than you'd expect of someone with his muscle mass. When using his undead strength, Warson is also relatively slow.
Equipment
Warhammer: Old as he is, and almost as big. Warson's Warhammer is practically an iron staff with a great big metal head bearing two faces; each one flat and square-shaped. While bearing no enchantments or abilities of its own, the Warhammer has enough mass that one needs at least above average strength just to pick it up, and Warson himself is probably the only thing around capable of slinging it with one hand (and only when using his Undead Strength). Overall quality of the weapon is actually below average, but it'd take a real streak of luck to use that to your advantage.
Clawed Gauntlets: Presumably a newer addition to this monster's arsenal, if only because the rust isn't quite so heavy. These are a pair of heavy-duty iron gauntlets, each one containing a set of four spring-loaded, single-edged blades lined up to come out over the knuckles. The springs are so sturdy and inflexible that the blades cannot be retracted during a battle. Each blade is approximately a foot and a half long, useful for stabbing and slashing attacks.
Xem'zund's Standard: The only confirmable new addition to Warson's arsenal is Xem'zund's Standard -- which is actually a ten foot long glaive sporting a two foot long, six inch thick blade shaped like a steak knife with issues. Mounted beneath the blade and supported by thick metal rings is the arcane Standard of the Necromancer, Xem'zund, which loosely portrays a scepter or wand tipped with a gemstone, and inset into this stone are bloodied human eyes. While not intentionally enchanted, the sheer terror wrought by Xem'zund's name is enough to break the morale of lesser men on sight -- even more so when stained with the blood of their comrades.
Note: Standard's fear effect only works on low-level (0-3) NPCs. Others are presumed able to withstand it.
Random Weaponry: Seeing as how Warson rarely bothers to dodge anything, and often kills others as soon as they can pierce him, his body is a veritable tapestry of weapons, most originating from whatever region he's fighting in at the time. Most of the weapons sticking out of Warson's body tend to be small (daggers, broken spears, arrows and the like), but every now and then you'll spot a sword or five. For any number of reasons, most of the weapons sticking out of his body are lodged in his back or chest, with overall quality ranging from poor to just below average.
Armor: While largely useless due to rust and abuse, Derris Warson is still wearing the exact same armor he had on the day he died. Its overall design resembles a typical knight's platemail without a helm. Whatever nation or nations the armor came from, its actual appearance and design has long since fallen out of common memory.
History: Needless to say, the monster once known as Derris Warson has little history at all. In fact, nobody knows exactly where he came from or when Xem'zund hauled his corpse out of the dirt -- let alone where his body was plundered from in the first place. Even his name is suspect, since it comes from a series of ancient but still recognizable letters imprinted on his left shoulderplate. The unlucky few who've had to face him in combat have provided bardic loremasters with just enough information about Warson's fighting technique and appearance to speculate on.
It's now believed that Warson was originally a man-at-arms serving in the Coronian military. Judging by his appearance, he may have had some orcish ancestry and could've even felt discriminated against because of it; nobody knows now. One loremaster concluded that Warson probably deserted the army to become a wandering adventurer and mercenary, but most agree his death happened around seven hundred years ago. They also agree that he met his end somewhere close to Xem'zund's current base of operations.
More recently, Warson appeared near the front of the undead army sent to squash Eluriand. As the army approached the city, he was specifically identified mangling his way through the surrounding countryside, always where the battle was thickest and the most blood was spilled. As the army is now poised to slam into Eluriand like an unholy hurricane, it's likely that Warson will follow this pattern all over again; deliberately ransacking his way to wherever the fighting is at its heaviest, striving to break the hearts and wills of those who dare defy his lord's terrible will.
Out of Character:
Submit Thread for Judgment
Reply With Quote
