Zenes
07-01-09, 03:43 AM
http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v117/Zenes/Zenes_Final_by_C_D.jpg
Name:Zenes
Age: 100+
Race: Baatezu
Hair Color: Black, with a twinge of purple twilight.
Eye Color: Carmine
Height: 5'5
Weight: 210
Occupation: Slaver, Destroyer, Throned Deity
Personality: Rather a blunt creature, following into his will of dominance and submission. Rarely, does he find amusement with long winded conversations, merely pointing to the fact that they bore him, as the point of the conversation would be masked within someone's long winded speech. He's a commanding entity, demanding respect and loyalty with but a glance, his words to weigh heavy on minds that he feels conquerable and weak. A sort of hubris rides within his dark soul, reminding him of his all powerful prophecy and destiny, to which he does not reveal. His outlook to many things is quite skewed, tempered towards a more Male oriented community, having perceptions matching one of forceful dominance.
Appearance: Human form is a rather bland detail, though often his preferable choice when around those not of his own brood or kind. Long, twilighting black hair falling to his waist, usually swept behind him. A pair of loose fitting black pants drape around his hips, a criss-crossed pattern of fabric holding them. His chest is usually adorned with a loose fitting shirt, merely placed to keep himself covered, though across his shoulders lies the normal trench he has grown rather fond of, the edges rough and frayed with many burn marks pocking the area. His physical form is toned, hardened and to many extents, perfect; with muscles showing little to no fat, merely accented by his lean face.
Assuming his demonic form, he keeps the lean tone, merely taking it to a larger extent and growing to a staggering thirteen feet tall. His scorch tanned skin replaced by fine red scales, radiating heat from a distance. His face contorts, reverting to an almost reptilian nature, including a forked tongue, and yellowed fangs that drip with an unholy ichor, a vestigial tail, and large membranous wings capable of achieving flight. From various parts of his body, hardened talons and spikes erupt, covering a range of his hands, feet, back and tail.
History:
It was within the swirling vortecies of chaotic energy, where the screams of lost souls echoed through reality like the sound of the wind within our worlds, in a particular "Colony" named Phlegethos, that something was about to happen that would set into motion a chain of events that would torment the planes of existence like never before. It was there, within a molten river that it began with a very simple item, something that most people would look over: An egg.
The rippling flow of magma did nothing to the perfect black oblong shape as it came to the surface, steam hissing about as it was cradled and carried downstream, the large perfect shell quivering as it shifted upon the river, whatever it was that was inside, whatever had been sleeping within, waiting to emerge had chosen its time, and now was that time. A loud, echoing cracking noise echoed through the surrounding land as the monster within began to tear away at it, causing the flawless surface to shatter as the youth ripped free, it was a beast unlike any other, a devil that led all other devils. It was a Pit Fiend, a Baatezu, and not just any mind you, the one that emerged was quite special, and all those within Phlegethos knew of the prophecies that spoke of his arrival.
Being brought up with other Baatezu, there was one thing that wasn't condoned: Weakness. Any of the young who showed weakness were instantly devoured and forgotten, though this was not the case with the child of prophecies, at everything he excelled in a way that made the other young look foolish. He was trained in fighting and hunting, given no weapons, his claws and fangs toughened on bone and sinew as he ripped through the unlucky victims of his prowling, their corpses, or more appropriately, what was left of them, were always tortured, mutilated and gruesomely disfigured before any actual eating would begin, the faces of the despicable beasts he killed, things that were the nightmares of the most noble and powerful knight, were twisted in expressions of horror and indescribable pain, to the point that those who watched over him and helped him grow would swear that he would engulf their souls along with their flesh.
Time passed as it does, years and decades fading into blurred memories as the Brood, as they called themselves as a pack, continued to grow, though to this legendary child's dismay, he was still quite low within its ranks, and he loathed it. He spent what time was free away from killing for both pleasure and sustenance, on contemplating ideas that would gain him power and favor. His magical abilities were nearly untrained as he had always placed his prowess in physical overbearing, though he knew that this wouldn't be the way that he would have to exist if he was to become a great general as was the dream of all of them, to live up to what the stories told of his "plague upon the planes" and so he realized what he had to do. Day by day he would pick off the younger Baatezu, slaughtering them in heinous fashions and devouring them in a belief that it would augment his own powers, using his debilitating abilities with more and more perfection to leave the smaller of his kind writhing upon the floor, attempting to breathe as he would torture and flay their flesh, taking large sheets of it from their stomach and back and devouring it in front of them with a sadistic grin, watching the pain as they tried to scream, their mouths stretching in ways that if they hadn't been magically silenced, would easily echo through the entire plane with their agony. There were even those that begged him for mercy, though he had never known such things and tortured them more gruesomely than others, thinking it was nothing but weakness that made them ask for such things.
This continued for quite some time, and as he was becoming more practiced, and more arrogant by watching the death of his "kindred" he began to move up, slaughtering any who stood in his way with such ferocity that more than once he left heaps of twisted, mutilated corpses in his wake, carcasses convulsing and bleeding.
These deaths and his practice with both physical strength and magical abilities as he slaughtered them brought the Baatezu to be the keeper of the Brood, something akin to the King if one could fathom it, watching over the newborns and controlling an entire pack of the most feared creatures in existence, sitting back and letting them conform to his whim, even leading large hunting parties to help keep him trained, though more than a few times many of the Baatezu who were invited were those that disagreed with his ways, and almost never did they find their way back alive.
This had all happened very quickly and his rule as Keeper lasted until the time of his one thousanth anniversary of his birth, though all this time he had fully matured, his scales were so annealed that no normal steel weapon could pierce them, his strength had gained a point where he could have easily contested a Storm Giant, and his wits from centuries of ruling were sharp and almost unmatched. His powers too had grown, in such a way that many would consider him no longer a Devil but some dark Deity that had been unleashed as penance for a great sin comitted by the Planes, the prophecy was coming true, and now as he left his throne in search of the Prime Material Plane, the "World of Humans" those in the Brood couldn't be happier to be rid of him, the slaughtering he had done had severely limited their numbers, and the Baatezu he had left in his wake was much weaker, all in a plan to make sure he could overthrow and re-take his place.
It was those who stood beside him, those who knew of the prophecies from before he was born that gave him the secret to Planar travelling, an ability that all Baatezu inherit at one time or another, and with this newfound knowledge he was making his way when stopped once more.
"Child of legend, devastator of the worlds, there is one gift that must be passed to you before you fulfill your place in history." Xinag`Til the Eldest of the Advisors told him, and gave him a strange black bundle of silk before leading him into the room of Prophecy, a place he had not cared to venture into throughout the centuries. Upon the walls were carvings of him, as he looked now, standing atop the planes with a large dagger held above him, taunting the abyss that could not take him, and ruling over all he stood upon. "This is you....Zenes." The Adivsor nodded and gave him a deep vow, letting him look over the walls, his blazing eyes examining the details, the stories carved within it:
A child born within molten fire,
Cruel beyond Cruelty,
Vile beyond Vileness,
Given the Parcel,
And thrust out upon the Planes,
Devil of Devils,
Ravager of his Own,
Shall rival the Gods,
For upon the Plane of Chaos he is born,
And from that Chaotic place it will begin,
Until he rules upon a great throne,
The Plane of Mortals,
Heed now his Rulings,
He is the One,
KING
EMPEROR
RULER
and GOD
Fall before Him now!
Give yourself to him and be spared!
For all shall be His,
It is the Destiny
Of the Multiverse
The inscription inspired a sense of confience, of hubris within him and nodding to Xinag`Til, the Fiend of prophecies slowly opened the bundle and looked upon the gift inside:A dagger, quite large for its size and resembled in many aspects a shamshir without such a pronounced curve. The blade was a very dark black and seemed not to reflect the torchlight that fell over it while the handle was black eog and wrapped in bandages that, as he was told, were a part of a very sadistic ritual in which they started as pure white linen, and as the enemies of the wielder were slaughtered they would unwrap it and dip it into the blood. The entire thing held with it a very dark presence, and as Zenes gripped it in his hand and held it up he knew that it was his to use, a tool that would be the catalyst for the destruction and his reign as it was told in the prophecy. Upon the bottom of the hilt he noticed an engraving in Baatezu, the characters inscribed upon a silver band,"The Devil of Prophecy shall wield me, and his foes shall fall by the hundreds until he is supreme ruler."
With great interest in this prophecy Zenes set off to see if it was true, and of course if it wasn't, he would make it true. As he stood at the end of the long hallway that made up the Room of Prophecy, he brought the dagger up, and in the ancient language of the Pit Fiends began to open a rift through space, black tendrils ripping through nothingness, opening a portal through the planes and stepped through it, space and time twisting about him until he had left his home of Phlegethos and came to the mortal world, the Prime Material Plane.
If you see him, be afraid, flee! Hold whatever deity you revere and call upon them to lend you flight so that you do not have to face the wrath of this being, the Devil of Prophecy, Zenes, the Destroyer.
Upon reaching Althanas, Zenes was amazed. He had intended on finding his way to a land full of mere mortals, but instead had arrived in a land unintentional. His first thought led him to the amount of magics accumulated, somehow altering his course amongst the planar travels. His will reached internally, turning to the dark fires that burned within, willing the energy to spew forth another portal so that he may turn away from the land. Instead, what he found was a cold, unwelcoming feeling wracking him in pain. Doubled over, the demon reached for his weapon, feeling its cold, dark embrace, he felt for the energies within. Again, his efforts were in vain, another shock of pain washing over him. After a time, he arose, a dark hunger within his eyes. It seemed, he would have to wash himself in the blood of his enemies once more to return the powers he once claimed, renewing the energies and restoring what was lost. It seemed, the energies of Althanas were nothing of what he expected, his abilities changed and warped.
Skills:
Shapeshifting: Zenes is able to selectively manipulate his energies and bring forth various pieces of his demonic form, from his tail erupting from his back end, to augmenting his hands, or letting his wings sprout forth.
Martial Prowess: A capable fighter, preferring to whittle his enemies down with his bare hands and teeth, rather to taste his enemies lifeblood than cast it casually aside with a blade. More attributed to the mere brawling style of combat, no real style, just merciless blows with a force of power behind them than an actual art. The moves aren't decidedly quick, just merely forceful.
Immune to Disease and Age: Coming from a land where weakness was merely the incapability of besting one in combat, there was no such thing as disease, and age was merely the time it took for one to train and grow stronger.
Heightened Senses: Within his demonic form, his senses are heightened beyond a normal human, leading Zenes to often use his shapeshifting to work his senses within human form.
Hunting: Having to scrounge in his early life for food, and later in life leading many hunts, he holds a great passion within the very act of smelling out his prey. Using his enhanced senses, and abilities to make his attempts successful, he approaches it as an animal would, using all fours and crouching to the ground. His attempts don't always come to fruition, simply due to his insatiable thirst, and when it comes down to it, his prey is often faster than he.
Magic: Flames: Producing flames is a general gift to all his people, coming from the great time spent within Phlegethos. Zenes is able to manifest a form of black fire, turning it to his will in whatever way he deems. Though, at this point, it's rather crude and his power hasn't quite caught back up to what it once was. It's merely capable of searing flesh at this point, often unused as it isn't quite as developed. ((1 out of 5 post usage.))
Equipment:
Devil's Prophecy: A blade, which is nearly the size of his human shape, and merely a dagger within his demonic form. It holds great importance to him, having his very prophecy written along it, and being his way to power. It's dull at this time, for it has not feasted upon the lifeblood of enemies, wrapped within the heavily stained linen. Zenes knows the incantation, a forming of mumbles and jarbling in different tongues, which when bathing the weapon's linen, the weapon feasts and grows within power. It's an undiscerninable amount, and never exact, but when properly observed, it is an artifact which holds great significance and power. It merely holds an edge closely resembling steel, its power diminished, though holds the potential for more.
Name:Zenes
Age: 100+
Race: Baatezu
Hair Color: Black, with a twinge of purple twilight.
Eye Color: Carmine
Height: 5'5
Weight: 210
Occupation: Slaver, Destroyer, Throned Deity
Personality: Rather a blunt creature, following into his will of dominance and submission. Rarely, does he find amusement with long winded conversations, merely pointing to the fact that they bore him, as the point of the conversation would be masked within someone's long winded speech. He's a commanding entity, demanding respect and loyalty with but a glance, his words to weigh heavy on minds that he feels conquerable and weak. A sort of hubris rides within his dark soul, reminding him of his all powerful prophecy and destiny, to which he does not reveal. His outlook to many things is quite skewed, tempered towards a more Male oriented community, having perceptions matching one of forceful dominance.
Appearance: Human form is a rather bland detail, though often his preferable choice when around those not of his own brood or kind. Long, twilighting black hair falling to his waist, usually swept behind him. A pair of loose fitting black pants drape around his hips, a criss-crossed pattern of fabric holding them. His chest is usually adorned with a loose fitting shirt, merely placed to keep himself covered, though across his shoulders lies the normal trench he has grown rather fond of, the edges rough and frayed with many burn marks pocking the area. His physical form is toned, hardened and to many extents, perfect; with muscles showing little to no fat, merely accented by his lean face.
Assuming his demonic form, he keeps the lean tone, merely taking it to a larger extent and growing to a staggering thirteen feet tall. His scorch tanned skin replaced by fine red scales, radiating heat from a distance. His face contorts, reverting to an almost reptilian nature, including a forked tongue, and yellowed fangs that drip with an unholy ichor, a vestigial tail, and large membranous wings capable of achieving flight. From various parts of his body, hardened talons and spikes erupt, covering a range of his hands, feet, back and tail.
History:
It was within the swirling vortecies of chaotic energy, where the screams of lost souls echoed through reality like the sound of the wind within our worlds, in a particular "Colony" named Phlegethos, that something was about to happen that would set into motion a chain of events that would torment the planes of existence like never before. It was there, within a molten river that it began with a very simple item, something that most people would look over: An egg.
The rippling flow of magma did nothing to the perfect black oblong shape as it came to the surface, steam hissing about as it was cradled and carried downstream, the large perfect shell quivering as it shifted upon the river, whatever it was that was inside, whatever had been sleeping within, waiting to emerge had chosen its time, and now was that time. A loud, echoing cracking noise echoed through the surrounding land as the monster within began to tear away at it, causing the flawless surface to shatter as the youth ripped free, it was a beast unlike any other, a devil that led all other devils. It was a Pit Fiend, a Baatezu, and not just any mind you, the one that emerged was quite special, and all those within Phlegethos knew of the prophecies that spoke of his arrival.
Being brought up with other Baatezu, there was one thing that wasn't condoned: Weakness. Any of the young who showed weakness were instantly devoured and forgotten, though this was not the case with the child of prophecies, at everything he excelled in a way that made the other young look foolish. He was trained in fighting and hunting, given no weapons, his claws and fangs toughened on bone and sinew as he ripped through the unlucky victims of his prowling, their corpses, or more appropriately, what was left of them, were always tortured, mutilated and gruesomely disfigured before any actual eating would begin, the faces of the despicable beasts he killed, things that were the nightmares of the most noble and powerful knight, were twisted in expressions of horror and indescribable pain, to the point that those who watched over him and helped him grow would swear that he would engulf their souls along with their flesh.
Time passed as it does, years and decades fading into blurred memories as the Brood, as they called themselves as a pack, continued to grow, though to this legendary child's dismay, he was still quite low within its ranks, and he loathed it. He spent what time was free away from killing for both pleasure and sustenance, on contemplating ideas that would gain him power and favor. His magical abilities were nearly untrained as he had always placed his prowess in physical overbearing, though he knew that this wouldn't be the way that he would have to exist if he was to become a great general as was the dream of all of them, to live up to what the stories told of his "plague upon the planes" and so he realized what he had to do. Day by day he would pick off the younger Baatezu, slaughtering them in heinous fashions and devouring them in a belief that it would augment his own powers, using his debilitating abilities with more and more perfection to leave the smaller of his kind writhing upon the floor, attempting to breathe as he would torture and flay their flesh, taking large sheets of it from their stomach and back and devouring it in front of them with a sadistic grin, watching the pain as they tried to scream, their mouths stretching in ways that if they hadn't been magically silenced, would easily echo through the entire plane with their agony. There were even those that begged him for mercy, though he had never known such things and tortured them more gruesomely than others, thinking it was nothing but weakness that made them ask for such things.
This continued for quite some time, and as he was becoming more practiced, and more arrogant by watching the death of his "kindred" he began to move up, slaughtering any who stood in his way with such ferocity that more than once he left heaps of twisted, mutilated corpses in his wake, carcasses convulsing and bleeding.
These deaths and his practice with both physical strength and magical abilities as he slaughtered them brought the Baatezu to be the keeper of the Brood, something akin to the King if one could fathom it, watching over the newborns and controlling an entire pack of the most feared creatures in existence, sitting back and letting them conform to his whim, even leading large hunting parties to help keep him trained, though more than a few times many of the Baatezu who were invited were those that disagreed with his ways, and almost never did they find their way back alive.
This had all happened very quickly and his rule as Keeper lasted until the time of his one thousanth anniversary of his birth, though all this time he had fully matured, his scales were so annealed that no normal steel weapon could pierce them, his strength had gained a point where he could have easily contested a Storm Giant, and his wits from centuries of ruling were sharp and almost unmatched. His powers too had grown, in such a way that many would consider him no longer a Devil but some dark Deity that had been unleashed as penance for a great sin comitted by the Planes, the prophecy was coming true, and now as he left his throne in search of the Prime Material Plane, the "World of Humans" those in the Brood couldn't be happier to be rid of him, the slaughtering he had done had severely limited their numbers, and the Baatezu he had left in his wake was much weaker, all in a plan to make sure he could overthrow and re-take his place.
It was those who stood beside him, those who knew of the prophecies from before he was born that gave him the secret to Planar travelling, an ability that all Baatezu inherit at one time or another, and with this newfound knowledge he was making his way when stopped once more.
"Child of legend, devastator of the worlds, there is one gift that must be passed to you before you fulfill your place in history." Xinag`Til the Eldest of the Advisors told him, and gave him a strange black bundle of silk before leading him into the room of Prophecy, a place he had not cared to venture into throughout the centuries. Upon the walls were carvings of him, as he looked now, standing atop the planes with a large dagger held above him, taunting the abyss that could not take him, and ruling over all he stood upon. "This is you....Zenes." The Adivsor nodded and gave him a deep vow, letting him look over the walls, his blazing eyes examining the details, the stories carved within it:
A child born within molten fire,
Cruel beyond Cruelty,
Vile beyond Vileness,
Given the Parcel,
And thrust out upon the Planes,
Devil of Devils,
Ravager of his Own,
Shall rival the Gods,
For upon the Plane of Chaos he is born,
And from that Chaotic place it will begin,
Until he rules upon a great throne,
The Plane of Mortals,
Heed now his Rulings,
He is the One,
KING
EMPEROR
RULER
and GOD
Fall before Him now!
Give yourself to him and be spared!
For all shall be His,
It is the Destiny
Of the Multiverse
The inscription inspired a sense of confience, of hubris within him and nodding to Xinag`Til, the Fiend of prophecies slowly opened the bundle and looked upon the gift inside:A dagger, quite large for its size and resembled in many aspects a shamshir without such a pronounced curve. The blade was a very dark black and seemed not to reflect the torchlight that fell over it while the handle was black eog and wrapped in bandages that, as he was told, were a part of a very sadistic ritual in which they started as pure white linen, and as the enemies of the wielder were slaughtered they would unwrap it and dip it into the blood. The entire thing held with it a very dark presence, and as Zenes gripped it in his hand and held it up he knew that it was his to use, a tool that would be the catalyst for the destruction and his reign as it was told in the prophecy. Upon the bottom of the hilt he noticed an engraving in Baatezu, the characters inscribed upon a silver band,"The Devil of Prophecy shall wield me, and his foes shall fall by the hundreds until he is supreme ruler."
With great interest in this prophecy Zenes set off to see if it was true, and of course if it wasn't, he would make it true. As he stood at the end of the long hallway that made up the Room of Prophecy, he brought the dagger up, and in the ancient language of the Pit Fiends began to open a rift through space, black tendrils ripping through nothingness, opening a portal through the planes and stepped through it, space and time twisting about him until he had left his home of Phlegethos and came to the mortal world, the Prime Material Plane.
If you see him, be afraid, flee! Hold whatever deity you revere and call upon them to lend you flight so that you do not have to face the wrath of this being, the Devil of Prophecy, Zenes, the Destroyer.
Upon reaching Althanas, Zenes was amazed. He had intended on finding his way to a land full of mere mortals, but instead had arrived in a land unintentional. His first thought led him to the amount of magics accumulated, somehow altering his course amongst the planar travels. His will reached internally, turning to the dark fires that burned within, willing the energy to spew forth another portal so that he may turn away from the land. Instead, what he found was a cold, unwelcoming feeling wracking him in pain. Doubled over, the demon reached for his weapon, feeling its cold, dark embrace, he felt for the energies within. Again, his efforts were in vain, another shock of pain washing over him. After a time, he arose, a dark hunger within his eyes. It seemed, he would have to wash himself in the blood of his enemies once more to return the powers he once claimed, renewing the energies and restoring what was lost. It seemed, the energies of Althanas were nothing of what he expected, his abilities changed and warped.
Skills:
Shapeshifting: Zenes is able to selectively manipulate his energies and bring forth various pieces of his demonic form, from his tail erupting from his back end, to augmenting his hands, or letting his wings sprout forth.
Martial Prowess: A capable fighter, preferring to whittle his enemies down with his bare hands and teeth, rather to taste his enemies lifeblood than cast it casually aside with a blade. More attributed to the mere brawling style of combat, no real style, just merciless blows with a force of power behind them than an actual art. The moves aren't decidedly quick, just merely forceful.
Immune to Disease and Age: Coming from a land where weakness was merely the incapability of besting one in combat, there was no such thing as disease, and age was merely the time it took for one to train and grow stronger.
Heightened Senses: Within his demonic form, his senses are heightened beyond a normal human, leading Zenes to often use his shapeshifting to work his senses within human form.
Hunting: Having to scrounge in his early life for food, and later in life leading many hunts, he holds a great passion within the very act of smelling out his prey. Using his enhanced senses, and abilities to make his attempts successful, he approaches it as an animal would, using all fours and crouching to the ground. His attempts don't always come to fruition, simply due to his insatiable thirst, and when it comes down to it, his prey is often faster than he.
Magic: Flames: Producing flames is a general gift to all his people, coming from the great time spent within Phlegethos. Zenes is able to manifest a form of black fire, turning it to his will in whatever way he deems. Though, at this point, it's rather crude and his power hasn't quite caught back up to what it once was. It's merely capable of searing flesh at this point, often unused as it isn't quite as developed. ((1 out of 5 post usage.))
Equipment:
Devil's Prophecy: A blade, which is nearly the size of his human shape, and merely a dagger within his demonic form. It holds great importance to him, having his very prophecy written along it, and being his way to power. It's dull at this time, for it has not feasted upon the lifeblood of enemies, wrapped within the heavily stained linen. Zenes knows the incantation, a forming of mumbles and jarbling in different tongues, which when bathing the weapon's linen, the weapon feasts and grows within power. It's an undiscerninable amount, and never exact, but when properly observed, it is an artifact which holds great significance and power. It merely holds an edge closely resembling steel, its power diminished, though holds the potential for more.