Myth Anlegand
09-06-15, 10:17 AM
Name: Mythos Anledera
Nickname/Alias: Myth Anlegand
Age: 70
Race: Elf
Height: 6”
Weight: 160 lbs
Occupation: greatest lover in all the land, renowned actor of no peer, famed storyteller to royalty, hero of the past and the future, killer of kings and tyrants, slayer of dragons, messenger for both gods and demons, a dashing rogue, thief of extraordinary wealth, patron to orphans, the sick and the homeless.
Personality: Myth is a liar who will say whatever he needs to get a job done or into a woman's smallclothes. He is driven by the simple things in life, money, fame...or infamy. He often speaks his mind if it is smart for him to do or not. He likes attention and to be the centre of it when not on a job, but will take almost any opportunity to show off if in company.
History:
The Beginning
Born into a noble house that quickly fell into ruin after his birth, myth feels no real loss for the life he could have had. His family fled overseas from their original home to avoid their fate only to be captured by pirates. Myths father was killed in the attack and mother was sold into slavery shortly after, he however was kept on as a galley slave.
The Ship
He was young and fit enough, day by day he rowed, and watched the shadows dance in the little light that shone into the belly of the ship, he ate what he could, conversed little with the others as the task master, a man named Zheven, would use any excuse to beat and whip the slaves, a twist, sadistic with his treatment. Time went by, months, possibly years that he was stuck in that place, keeping to himself, shackled to some other unfortunate souls until the day the ship was attacked. There had been many attacks before, Usually started by the captain and his crew but this was different, it came in the day, it came fast and was over in what seemed like moments, Opening the door was dark elf, who with one fluid motion cut down the task master Zheven who cowered from the attack.
The Saviour
He came to be known as Ranten Esios, a researcher aboard and the captain of the Maidens Vail, he had been hunting down pirates in the area as they had stolen something from another vessel that he had set out after. It hadn’t been on this ship but he was not about to let pirates get away with misdeeds. He was an honorable man of sorts. He didn’t mind breaking the law as long as no one got hurt. He had been looking for a mysterious dark elf artifact called Talen’dranos Veraden, roughly translated to the Shadows Rest. When they made it to shore, the captain gave all of the slaves a choice, to serve him willingly or to seek their own fortune. Many left, and some stayed, like mythos, some had nowhere to go, some knew only one thing. He spent several years under the tutelage of the captain, learning the ropes and becoming a deck hand, helping out wherever he could and learning whatever he could. Most nights people would weave stories, play games of skill and luck, and fend off pirates and chase down others. It took a year, but the captain tracked down the scrolls and tomes he needed, sold in some far off port for barely anything. They were written in a language that no one but the captain seemed to understand, he had tried to learn the language but, his head was not one for the written word. Though could pick up the spoken language bit by bit.
The two became close, maybe because they both had a desire to learn or because they were the only elves on board but they bonded and the captain, his savior, when he was not busy passed everything he knew onto Mythos. It could not last though, he worked himself so hard the captain became ill while far out to sea so close to finishing his work. He passed on all he knew to mythos and made him swear to finish what he could not.
The Shadow
It had been 2 years since his saviour had died and given to him control of his ship, It was not something that all agreed on, those that disputed his claim had all been killed, abandoned or parted ways on shore. Following instructions left by his mentor he was searching for the Shadows Rest inside the shadow's grasp, Thanks to the work his mentor had put in before him it was easy enough to find the location of this abandoned temple in an archipelago far out to sea and set sail. It took weeks of traveling but his and the crew's eyes were set, they had been told countless tales of the treasures that awaited them at this place, they had all the provisions they would need for the journey there.
When they arrived it was not a lush tropical landscape but a harsh and rocky one, there were once trees here but they had lost all their leaves and petrified long ago. There would be no supplies to forage and recover and no way that they could return with what they had left. Tensions had already been running high over the last few days, not even the promise of fortune could placate men who knew they would never have a chance to spend it. That night, Mythos took one of the rowboats and made his way to shore. there must be something that he could find, it could not all be dead here.
He traveled on foot for 2 days, supplies running low, the sky overhead gathered thick cloud, everywhere he looked shadows and petrified trees loomed over him, they seemed to guide in a way, whenever he started to veer of course something in the light would shift and move, draw his eye, make him think twice, whenever he looked overhead there was nothing to be seen. When it felt like he could not continue, reaching the peak of a cliff leading down to a hidden cove, he saw the temple.
The Temple
It was an unimpressive looking building from above, squat and square, When he told the stories it would be towering black hand that blocked out the sun where a dragon came to roost that he had been circling him while he traveled, but now was not the time for stories, He made his way to the temple, the door had strange writing written all over it, similar to what his mentor wrote in, a language he had never thought to learn. He opened the door with very little effort, It got a little stuck along the way, again, unimpressive It would have a puzzle and traps when he told the story, it led to a black staircase that headed down, into darkness, there were so many corners at odd angles, it was no time at all until there was no light, He had kept a single torch for such an occasion, lighting it as he traveled down the winding corridors to the main chamber. Inside stood 4 black obelisks on a dais surrounding a sarcophagi, and all around it the bodies of men he knew. Just as the torch light sputtered and died, he saw something dart from the centre of the room.
A howl, a scream, a bellowing wind filled the chamber, Myth was glad he had ran out of drinking water a day ago or his pants would be getting very wet and warm all of a sudden. He could feel something watching him, a shiver ran down his entire body, frozen in place, knees so weak but unwilling to buckle. He was there for…. far too long, his eyes adjusted to the darkness slowly, could start to make out the shapes of the bodies on the floor, the ever so subtle black writing on black walls. Slowly he found the courage to move. To examine the bodies of those on the floor, but as he touched them, there shapes fell to nothing, illusion or madness, all was forgotten as he heard footsteps coming from the corridor, talking and fire. Surely he could not hear fire, but an unknown dread started to build up inside him as he watched the entrance and as the sounds drew closer, could see the reflections of light around the corner. As it became brighter, a feeling of being very small grew with it until he turned to see his own shadow, stretching past the threshold of the obelisk and forming into horrific creature and in moments, all was black again.
The Artifact
It was like being in a dream, all around was endless darkness, but no matter what there was always a small bit of light and the feeling like he was not alone, He could not move, but could feel, it was like he was something very small, he could not talk, but he could hear, voices, familiar but distant, in a language he felt he should but could no longer understand. The thuds of something heavy, of coin rubbing together. of rain drumming off wood. Of a drum to keep the beat of rowers, of whispers he was slowly starting to understand the meaning of if not the words themself. Trapped, for a very long time, Alone for a very long time, plunged into darkness for a very long time. Had he died, passed out in that chamber, was this to be the end, would there be no chance to tell his stories any more. That light was annoying, everytime he looked at it, it would be swallowed by the darkness once more and move somewhere else.
The Storm
There was the sound of something opening, a chest maybe. The rain still heavy, cracks of thunder shook his very being, again the voices, and then things got brighter there were shapes in the darkness, like giants that filled the sky, a hunger from what shared this space with him as there was a loud call from outside and even without a sense of up or down the world turned and and cracks filled the sky like lightning, bright white light spreading as the world spun and fell to pieces and he gasped for air, crawling onto his hands and knees, he looked around to see the cabin of his ship a chest of gold and all around him the shards of a broken orb, black glass like obsidian, the sound or rain of cries becoming clear, the rocking sensation of a rough storm. Two figures standing by the chest in fear as a shadow leapt from under me ripping apart the shadows of those before me, the men simply falling over. He went to stand, putting his hand and standing on shards of the orb, lost his footing as another wave struck the side of the ship, threatening to tip it and threw it into some rocks, mythos struck his head and once more he was plunged into darkness, this was not as unpleasant as the last time however
The Maiden
His eyes opened to the face of a beautiful woman, curled long brown hair, soft features and simply dressed who was sat in a chair beside him reading to herself, not seeming to notice him stir. He was in an unfamiliar place. But a nice soft bed, a comforting rocking sensation pain arcing through his body. As he cried out in it, the woman noticed. Her name was Ava Vale, her father was a surgeon who had removed several shards of the orb from his body when they had found him floating out at sea on a large piece of driftwood, he should have died, but by luck or the will of the gods he had found himself onto the path of another ship where he was saved and within a few days, would be back on dry land. Ava helped in his recovery keeping him fed and hydrated, by the end of the few days was able to stand by himself though it was not easy, He was told that it would take a long time to recover and he needed to spend his time relaxing and with that, they arrived at the city of Radasanth was given some coin, and a kiss on the cheek from Ava before she left with her father for somewhere unknown. He had become close to her over the last few days, they both shared a love of stories and would spend countless hours telling their own, or sharing ones they had heard, discussing and arguing about some of the finer points that didn't matter in the slightest.
The City
With what little coin he had, he spent his time in theaters and listening to bards all over the city. Eventually finding some work as a strange hand in a small stage called ‘Thespia’ And from there, covering for the narrator when they became ill, and then, taking on small roles slowly building to more, aided by his love of theatrics and stories and became a fairly well known name. The group however had financial problems and could not continue the way they had. Unable to support the other staff, he didn’t want to see his new family go the way of all those before and went looking for a way he could help those that helped him.
The Man
He tried all he could to get some sort of deal or some sort of loan, but there was no one willing to aid him, his fame had led him to start wearing hoods and masks in public, to disguise his recognisable features, it was not enough to get what he needed and started looking for less reputable means. He was not ignorant of such things from his days on a ship both as a slave and deck hand and a captain, he had crossings with those that step outside the law. He found one by reputation, Luvidicus Marr, who just so happened to be looking for someone with the talents for being someone else, not a stranger with a blade and didn’t ask questions. He went on some jobs for this man, most were simple errands, go somewhere looking like someone else, take messages, blend in and get information. There was occasional danger, he would need to run and hide, to hurt though had not been brought to kill. As the tasks become more dangerous he started to learn more skills of a thief, how to get into places he was not supposed to, create distractions and be better with blades that he could keep hidden.
It was enough to keep money flowing in to support the Thespia, though it started to raise questions, he put it down to a mysterious patron who wanted to remain anonymous. He continued to act, and continue to be a sneak thief, having several close encounters. One day, one of those came to haunt him in the crowd of a show about a rogue who saves a princess was a man he had stolen from he only found out when this target got up and cried ‘thief’ as i came onto the stage, people laughed and looked on as i just stared at him, and under the bright lights he wanted to disappear, and that was the first time he vanished, becoming a shadow and falling away.
The Myth
After that, he could not return to his home, to his family, he could not risk getting them involved, word traveled fast and so many people had seen what had happened. So, with that he left, leaving no trace to the life he knew leaving everything behind once more but this time, in the hope there would be something to return to. He left the city and spent time on the road practicing this new power, learning its limits, he had thought it all a dream, a story, but it seems he and the shadow had tangled there fates somehow and it was still out there. devouring the shadows of others. He would look for it, as he built a new life for himself.
The Legend
At least, that is the story he tells people, one of loss, magic, fleeting love and mythical creatures, things change every time he does, as others repeat his stories, the line between truth and lies is as thin as a shadow.
Appearance: Myth is of an slightly taller than average height, with pale skin. He has scars along his wrists and ankles where manacles used to restrain him though he does not often show these, covering them with clothes or makeup. There are also 5 small scars that cover his body, one on his right hand, two on his right foot, one over his heart and the other in his hairline, above his left eye. He is of an athletic build, with the slight impression there used to be much more to him. His eyes are of a piercing cyan and hair a shocking orange. Features are plain, neithter sharp or soft but handsome.
He tends to wear different clothes all of the time, not sticking to one particular outfit. Apart from one that he uses when performing dangerous tasks. It is a long mottles black and gray coat that he can use to blend into most surroundings, it is supported but what look like bones around the rib, down the spine, on the forearms and back of his hands fashioned to look like a skeleton, has been used to deflect blows once or twice in the past but do little against clean strikes. Inside the sleeves and pockets and lining of the coat are places to secret away throwing daggers. He has black knee high boots with the same bone motif on his shin and kneecap for a little protection and soft soles to aid with moving silently. He also has a hood and mantle he can put over any outfit that can have a mask attached, his preference is for one of a skull but has several if needed.
Skills:
Deckhand: A life growing up on ships has taught Myth how to climb, keep his balance and tie knots.
Stab in the dark: Never really proficient with close combat, Myth took a liking to daggers, able to throw them with moderate accuracy but when needed too get in close of larger weapons and disable opponents
Actor: From his time on the stage, Myth has worked at becoming an actor, able to put on one of many guises and voices, Quickly learning the mannerisms of others.
Sleight of Hand: pickpocketing, planting, opening locks, windows, cheating at card games, he has done it all, he has not mastered the art but those not expecting it or keeping an eye out are easy enough to fool.
Abilities:
The Way of Shadows: Where there are lights there are shadows, Myth can take the form of a shadow and project himself onto a surface of light, Other shadows act as a physical barrier to his movement but can otherwise move unhindered. If another shadow is cast onto his own it will force him into his physical form. This can not be entered if there is no light.
The Shadow's Edge: Myth can manipulate the edges of them to form other shapes and illusions, they can not however break off from the original source or surface, this includes his own shadow and while in the form of one to make his shadow look like other things.
Beyond the Shadows: Should myths shadow come into contact with that of a living creature, he can move into place of that shadow. However the same rules still apply as with the Way of Shadows.
Equipment/Weapons:
Legendary Attire: Myth’s coat with spaces for hidden daggers and a rigid bone like structure that acts as light armour. It comes with a hood and mantle that can have a mask affixed to it.
Dyes and powders: Used to change his appearance usually via hair colour and makeup.
Thieves tools: A set of lockpicks for opening doors and keeping them locked and a small mirror to see around corners and reflect light.
Throwing daggers: Six iron blades that lead into shaped metal grip, they do not have any guards or pommels and are only 4 inches in length, they are sleek and designed to be thrown.
Dueling Daggers: Two larger daggers with hand guards and heavy pommels with a sleek and nondescript design. The blades are iron, an inch wide and four inches long, can be used for both stabbing and slashing. Embedded in the blades are shards of the obsidian orb recovered from his body.
Nickname/Alias: Myth Anlegand
Age: 70
Race: Elf
Height: 6”
Weight: 160 lbs
Occupation: greatest lover in all the land, renowned actor of no peer, famed storyteller to royalty, hero of the past and the future, killer of kings and tyrants, slayer of dragons, messenger for both gods and demons, a dashing rogue, thief of extraordinary wealth, patron to orphans, the sick and the homeless.
Personality: Myth is a liar who will say whatever he needs to get a job done or into a woman's smallclothes. He is driven by the simple things in life, money, fame...or infamy. He often speaks his mind if it is smart for him to do or not. He likes attention and to be the centre of it when not on a job, but will take almost any opportunity to show off if in company.
History:
The Beginning
Born into a noble house that quickly fell into ruin after his birth, myth feels no real loss for the life he could have had. His family fled overseas from their original home to avoid their fate only to be captured by pirates. Myths father was killed in the attack and mother was sold into slavery shortly after, he however was kept on as a galley slave.
The Ship
He was young and fit enough, day by day he rowed, and watched the shadows dance in the little light that shone into the belly of the ship, he ate what he could, conversed little with the others as the task master, a man named Zheven, would use any excuse to beat and whip the slaves, a twist, sadistic with his treatment. Time went by, months, possibly years that he was stuck in that place, keeping to himself, shackled to some other unfortunate souls until the day the ship was attacked. There had been many attacks before, Usually started by the captain and his crew but this was different, it came in the day, it came fast and was over in what seemed like moments, Opening the door was dark elf, who with one fluid motion cut down the task master Zheven who cowered from the attack.
The Saviour
He came to be known as Ranten Esios, a researcher aboard and the captain of the Maidens Vail, he had been hunting down pirates in the area as they had stolen something from another vessel that he had set out after. It hadn’t been on this ship but he was not about to let pirates get away with misdeeds. He was an honorable man of sorts. He didn’t mind breaking the law as long as no one got hurt. He had been looking for a mysterious dark elf artifact called Talen’dranos Veraden, roughly translated to the Shadows Rest. When they made it to shore, the captain gave all of the slaves a choice, to serve him willingly or to seek their own fortune. Many left, and some stayed, like mythos, some had nowhere to go, some knew only one thing. He spent several years under the tutelage of the captain, learning the ropes and becoming a deck hand, helping out wherever he could and learning whatever he could. Most nights people would weave stories, play games of skill and luck, and fend off pirates and chase down others. It took a year, but the captain tracked down the scrolls and tomes he needed, sold in some far off port for barely anything. They were written in a language that no one but the captain seemed to understand, he had tried to learn the language but, his head was not one for the written word. Though could pick up the spoken language bit by bit.
The two became close, maybe because they both had a desire to learn or because they were the only elves on board but they bonded and the captain, his savior, when he was not busy passed everything he knew onto Mythos. It could not last though, he worked himself so hard the captain became ill while far out to sea so close to finishing his work. He passed on all he knew to mythos and made him swear to finish what he could not.
The Shadow
It had been 2 years since his saviour had died and given to him control of his ship, It was not something that all agreed on, those that disputed his claim had all been killed, abandoned or parted ways on shore. Following instructions left by his mentor he was searching for the Shadows Rest inside the shadow's grasp, Thanks to the work his mentor had put in before him it was easy enough to find the location of this abandoned temple in an archipelago far out to sea and set sail. It took weeks of traveling but his and the crew's eyes were set, they had been told countless tales of the treasures that awaited them at this place, they had all the provisions they would need for the journey there.
When they arrived it was not a lush tropical landscape but a harsh and rocky one, there were once trees here but they had lost all their leaves and petrified long ago. There would be no supplies to forage and recover and no way that they could return with what they had left. Tensions had already been running high over the last few days, not even the promise of fortune could placate men who knew they would never have a chance to spend it. That night, Mythos took one of the rowboats and made his way to shore. there must be something that he could find, it could not all be dead here.
He traveled on foot for 2 days, supplies running low, the sky overhead gathered thick cloud, everywhere he looked shadows and petrified trees loomed over him, they seemed to guide in a way, whenever he started to veer of course something in the light would shift and move, draw his eye, make him think twice, whenever he looked overhead there was nothing to be seen. When it felt like he could not continue, reaching the peak of a cliff leading down to a hidden cove, he saw the temple.
The Temple
It was an unimpressive looking building from above, squat and square, When he told the stories it would be towering black hand that blocked out the sun where a dragon came to roost that he had been circling him while he traveled, but now was not the time for stories, He made his way to the temple, the door had strange writing written all over it, similar to what his mentor wrote in, a language he had never thought to learn. He opened the door with very little effort, It got a little stuck along the way, again, unimpressive It would have a puzzle and traps when he told the story, it led to a black staircase that headed down, into darkness, there were so many corners at odd angles, it was no time at all until there was no light, He had kept a single torch for such an occasion, lighting it as he traveled down the winding corridors to the main chamber. Inside stood 4 black obelisks on a dais surrounding a sarcophagi, and all around it the bodies of men he knew. Just as the torch light sputtered and died, he saw something dart from the centre of the room.
A howl, a scream, a bellowing wind filled the chamber, Myth was glad he had ran out of drinking water a day ago or his pants would be getting very wet and warm all of a sudden. He could feel something watching him, a shiver ran down his entire body, frozen in place, knees so weak but unwilling to buckle. He was there for…. far too long, his eyes adjusted to the darkness slowly, could start to make out the shapes of the bodies on the floor, the ever so subtle black writing on black walls. Slowly he found the courage to move. To examine the bodies of those on the floor, but as he touched them, there shapes fell to nothing, illusion or madness, all was forgotten as he heard footsteps coming from the corridor, talking and fire. Surely he could not hear fire, but an unknown dread started to build up inside him as he watched the entrance and as the sounds drew closer, could see the reflections of light around the corner. As it became brighter, a feeling of being very small grew with it until he turned to see his own shadow, stretching past the threshold of the obelisk and forming into horrific creature and in moments, all was black again.
The Artifact
It was like being in a dream, all around was endless darkness, but no matter what there was always a small bit of light and the feeling like he was not alone, He could not move, but could feel, it was like he was something very small, he could not talk, but he could hear, voices, familiar but distant, in a language he felt he should but could no longer understand. The thuds of something heavy, of coin rubbing together. of rain drumming off wood. Of a drum to keep the beat of rowers, of whispers he was slowly starting to understand the meaning of if not the words themself. Trapped, for a very long time, Alone for a very long time, plunged into darkness for a very long time. Had he died, passed out in that chamber, was this to be the end, would there be no chance to tell his stories any more. That light was annoying, everytime he looked at it, it would be swallowed by the darkness once more and move somewhere else.
The Storm
There was the sound of something opening, a chest maybe. The rain still heavy, cracks of thunder shook his very being, again the voices, and then things got brighter there were shapes in the darkness, like giants that filled the sky, a hunger from what shared this space with him as there was a loud call from outside and even without a sense of up or down the world turned and and cracks filled the sky like lightning, bright white light spreading as the world spun and fell to pieces and he gasped for air, crawling onto his hands and knees, he looked around to see the cabin of his ship a chest of gold and all around him the shards of a broken orb, black glass like obsidian, the sound or rain of cries becoming clear, the rocking sensation of a rough storm. Two figures standing by the chest in fear as a shadow leapt from under me ripping apart the shadows of those before me, the men simply falling over. He went to stand, putting his hand and standing on shards of the orb, lost his footing as another wave struck the side of the ship, threatening to tip it and threw it into some rocks, mythos struck his head and once more he was plunged into darkness, this was not as unpleasant as the last time however
The Maiden
His eyes opened to the face of a beautiful woman, curled long brown hair, soft features and simply dressed who was sat in a chair beside him reading to herself, not seeming to notice him stir. He was in an unfamiliar place. But a nice soft bed, a comforting rocking sensation pain arcing through his body. As he cried out in it, the woman noticed. Her name was Ava Vale, her father was a surgeon who had removed several shards of the orb from his body when they had found him floating out at sea on a large piece of driftwood, he should have died, but by luck or the will of the gods he had found himself onto the path of another ship where he was saved and within a few days, would be back on dry land. Ava helped in his recovery keeping him fed and hydrated, by the end of the few days was able to stand by himself though it was not easy, He was told that it would take a long time to recover and he needed to spend his time relaxing and with that, they arrived at the city of Radasanth was given some coin, and a kiss on the cheek from Ava before she left with her father for somewhere unknown. He had become close to her over the last few days, they both shared a love of stories and would spend countless hours telling their own, or sharing ones they had heard, discussing and arguing about some of the finer points that didn't matter in the slightest.
The City
With what little coin he had, he spent his time in theaters and listening to bards all over the city. Eventually finding some work as a strange hand in a small stage called ‘Thespia’ And from there, covering for the narrator when they became ill, and then, taking on small roles slowly building to more, aided by his love of theatrics and stories and became a fairly well known name. The group however had financial problems and could not continue the way they had. Unable to support the other staff, he didn’t want to see his new family go the way of all those before and went looking for a way he could help those that helped him.
The Man
He tried all he could to get some sort of deal or some sort of loan, but there was no one willing to aid him, his fame had led him to start wearing hoods and masks in public, to disguise his recognisable features, it was not enough to get what he needed and started looking for less reputable means. He was not ignorant of such things from his days on a ship both as a slave and deck hand and a captain, he had crossings with those that step outside the law. He found one by reputation, Luvidicus Marr, who just so happened to be looking for someone with the talents for being someone else, not a stranger with a blade and didn’t ask questions. He went on some jobs for this man, most were simple errands, go somewhere looking like someone else, take messages, blend in and get information. There was occasional danger, he would need to run and hide, to hurt though had not been brought to kill. As the tasks become more dangerous he started to learn more skills of a thief, how to get into places he was not supposed to, create distractions and be better with blades that he could keep hidden.
It was enough to keep money flowing in to support the Thespia, though it started to raise questions, he put it down to a mysterious patron who wanted to remain anonymous. He continued to act, and continue to be a sneak thief, having several close encounters. One day, one of those came to haunt him in the crowd of a show about a rogue who saves a princess was a man he had stolen from he only found out when this target got up and cried ‘thief’ as i came onto the stage, people laughed and looked on as i just stared at him, and under the bright lights he wanted to disappear, and that was the first time he vanished, becoming a shadow and falling away.
The Myth
After that, he could not return to his home, to his family, he could not risk getting them involved, word traveled fast and so many people had seen what had happened. So, with that he left, leaving no trace to the life he knew leaving everything behind once more but this time, in the hope there would be something to return to. He left the city and spent time on the road practicing this new power, learning its limits, he had thought it all a dream, a story, but it seems he and the shadow had tangled there fates somehow and it was still out there. devouring the shadows of others. He would look for it, as he built a new life for himself.
The Legend
At least, that is the story he tells people, one of loss, magic, fleeting love and mythical creatures, things change every time he does, as others repeat his stories, the line between truth and lies is as thin as a shadow.
Appearance: Myth is of an slightly taller than average height, with pale skin. He has scars along his wrists and ankles where manacles used to restrain him though he does not often show these, covering them with clothes or makeup. There are also 5 small scars that cover his body, one on his right hand, two on his right foot, one over his heart and the other in his hairline, above his left eye. He is of an athletic build, with the slight impression there used to be much more to him. His eyes are of a piercing cyan and hair a shocking orange. Features are plain, neithter sharp or soft but handsome.
He tends to wear different clothes all of the time, not sticking to one particular outfit. Apart from one that he uses when performing dangerous tasks. It is a long mottles black and gray coat that he can use to blend into most surroundings, it is supported but what look like bones around the rib, down the spine, on the forearms and back of his hands fashioned to look like a skeleton, has been used to deflect blows once or twice in the past but do little against clean strikes. Inside the sleeves and pockets and lining of the coat are places to secret away throwing daggers. He has black knee high boots with the same bone motif on his shin and kneecap for a little protection and soft soles to aid with moving silently. He also has a hood and mantle he can put over any outfit that can have a mask attached, his preference is for one of a skull but has several if needed.
Skills:
Deckhand: A life growing up on ships has taught Myth how to climb, keep his balance and tie knots.
Stab in the dark: Never really proficient with close combat, Myth took a liking to daggers, able to throw them with moderate accuracy but when needed too get in close of larger weapons and disable opponents
Actor: From his time on the stage, Myth has worked at becoming an actor, able to put on one of many guises and voices, Quickly learning the mannerisms of others.
Sleight of Hand: pickpocketing, planting, opening locks, windows, cheating at card games, he has done it all, he has not mastered the art but those not expecting it or keeping an eye out are easy enough to fool.
Abilities:
The Way of Shadows: Where there are lights there are shadows, Myth can take the form of a shadow and project himself onto a surface of light, Other shadows act as a physical barrier to his movement but can otherwise move unhindered. If another shadow is cast onto his own it will force him into his physical form. This can not be entered if there is no light.
The Shadow's Edge: Myth can manipulate the edges of them to form other shapes and illusions, they can not however break off from the original source or surface, this includes his own shadow and while in the form of one to make his shadow look like other things.
Beyond the Shadows: Should myths shadow come into contact with that of a living creature, he can move into place of that shadow. However the same rules still apply as with the Way of Shadows.
Equipment/Weapons:
Legendary Attire: Myth’s coat with spaces for hidden daggers and a rigid bone like structure that acts as light armour. It comes with a hood and mantle that can have a mask affixed to it.
Dyes and powders: Used to change his appearance usually via hair colour and makeup.
Thieves tools: A set of lockpicks for opening doors and keeping them locked and a small mirror to see around corners and reflect light.
Throwing daggers: Six iron blades that lead into shaped metal grip, they do not have any guards or pommels and are only 4 inches in length, they are sleek and designed to be thrown.
Dueling Daggers: Two larger daggers with hand guards and heavy pommels with a sleek and nondescript design. The blades are iron, an inch wide and four inches long, can be used for both stabbing and slashing. Embedded in the blades are shards of the obsidian orb recovered from his body.