Devin Argente
01-03-07, 07:17 AM
Mid-level update. So I'm still level 0. Yay. Updates in olive.
Name: Devin Argente
Race: Human
Age: 22
Gender: Male
Hair: Auburn
Eyes: Mahogany
Height: 6'0"
Weight: 155 lbs
Languages: Common
Occupation: Enforcer, problem-solver
Appearance
A slender frame with burdened, bentover shoulders. Rather pale tinctures dancing on his skin. Devin Argente appears very much not the son of a succesful mafia leader; his breadth is mediocre at best, and his musclature has the annoying habit to never clearly present itself, even upon undertaking rigorous martial training. Myriad unorderly wires of coppery chestnut, seemingly brimming with neglect, frame a jagged face. Yet upon closer inspection, Argente's hair is always shining with the glow of novelty. Travelling down the trail of his face, we first traverse a rather high forehead. Thin brows do nothing to conceal the monotone, piercing gaze of burnt sienna beneath them. The nose is perfectly slanted, lacking any disfiguring crooks or irregularities. His thin lips need not be described, for any random onlooker would swear that Devin possesses none.
His choice of clothing is rather mundane. Devin prefers lightweight shoes over boots. Black trousers are comfortably belted around his lean waist; a white blouse sloppily hangs over its buckle. Over that blouse, the Argente wears a contrasting black jacket. It's fairly loose and reaches down quite far, almost to his knees, but it does not seem to hamper Devin's movements in any way.
Personality
Devin's presence can make a stone feel uncomfortable. Wherever he find himself, the Argente son jerks his head around in paranoia. His face never changes expression unless in battle, and the eyes encased within it form an everlasting, disturbing stare. Having sustained cerebral damage at birth, Devin Argente is like a calculator. His ability to comprehend the most abstract of formulas and hypotheses, and his tendency to interpret live situations as simple calculations and functions have left him an admired persona at local universities. The darker side of this downright mathemathical approach to life is the apparent absence of any emotion. It is not like Devin does not possess them, but since his calculations rarely return feelings as a good guideline for action, any show of affectivity on his part would be a rare occurence.
Skills
Martial Arts
Devin is able to defend himself in almost any situation, as his body is his weapon. He has reached the level where he can succesfully fend off armed assault by a single, or perhaps two opponent(s). He is familiar with most joint locks and choke holds, and knows of many pain-susceptible areas in any humanoid's anatomy. Although he is fit to teach beginners the basics of his style, any dedicated martial arts expert would most likely defeat him.
Self-Imposed Hallucination
Whether it is the result of the damage to his brain during birth, or an heretofore unknown form of magical aptitude, this is the technique that made Devin the most intimidating and feared opponent the mafia possesses. A self-imposed hallucination allows the Argente to reduce the world to a great amount of constants and variables, basically allowing for a mindset that vaguely represents a Theory of Everything. At that point, the threshold between Devin's thoughts and reality blurs, and he is able to add things to it that normally would not be there.
At this level, he can only establish hallucinations that affect himself: he could, for example, imagine a platform to appear in the air, that will help him reach a higher area. But an ally would not be able to see or feel that platform, consequently can not stand on it, and so can not use it the way Devin can. This is a rather hampering limitation: Devin is not yet able to imagine - and thereby create - a weapon that can actually harm his opponents.
Equipment
The Argent Katars (Awarded here (http://www.althanas.com/world/showthread.php?t=3084))
These exotic weapons are commonly seen throughout more foreign countries like Fallien, but also found amongst Dark Elf assassins in Alerar. In the past, these Katars have been known to possess incredible, anti-magic power; however, these special abilities are locked away from Devin until he improves his prowess in hallucination and concentration. For now, they are simple katars with the thrusting and slashing power of steel shortswords.
History
The sun had not yet fully commenced its ascent into the slate veil of sky that lay over the small town of Ashfeld. Even the mighty winds did not disturb the silence that had infected the streets at this time of day. The twenty or so wooden cottages that stood on the palissaded hilltop showed no sign of life. Yes, the inhabitants of Ashfeld lived a tranquil, quiet life, far away from the turmoil of the great cities. And yet, amidst this picturesque scene of complete placidity, one man nervously paced through his chambers. He was corpulent, to say the least, and his giant moustache trembled in joyful agitation everytime the man turned around, only to traverse the room's only carpet one more time. A smile lay safely encroached between his wobbly cheeks, and his eyes twinkled with pleasure. He regularly let his fingers run over his balding skull, cherishing the last white hairs that still graced its tanned surface. Captain Oneric Kalbazzer was satisfied.
Just two days ago, his town guards had apprehended an atypical, wiry man. It had been a rather lenient event. No violence involved. The man, who had been later identified as Devin Argente, son of the late mafia-head Lodan Argente, had not spoken and not resisted while he was taken away to the single cell that this measly town's jail possessed. He was scheduled for execution five hours from now. Argente was one of the most wanted men in many large cities, but there, the young criminal was protected by the rest of his 'family'. Yet here, in Ashfeld, he would find no such shelter, and Kalbazzer did not for a moment doubt whether the man should be sent to the city for proper trial. That would be alike simply setting him free again. Not to mention that there would be other... people... that would take the credit for his hard work.
Oneric had been informed that Argente was extremely dangerous and - quite possibly - insane. But now that the Captain of the Guard had seen for himself how weakly the Argente presented himself, and how he stuttered, Oneric was certain that this information was merely part of another plot: a plot aimed at robbing him from gaining any prestige with those higher up in the rankings.
~*~*~*~
The gallow. A crude instrument, but awfully effective. Its wooden contraption stood fiercely acenter the village square. Morning was about to cross over into afternoon. Most doubted that the man that was now being led towards the mechanism of death would live to experience that event. Devin Argente himself knew for sure that he would. He hung limply inbetween two physical monstrosities that called themselves 'guards'. Both had a malicious club hanging from the side of their backs. Argente reasoned that he probably could have left any such guard in shambles after a fight, but a plan had formed in his mind from the moment he was apprehended.
He would show this small town the force of the family. Death would not take him here. Silent townsfolk lined both sides of the path that led up to the gallow; they seemed confused as to what was happening. Executions had not taken place here since the dawn of ages. It was almost as though some were disapproving: but of course, being merely farmers or artisans, they had nothing to combat the small battallion of Town Guards that was stationed here. Not that they would have wished to. Cowards. The Argente started to empty his mind. It was essential that these people saw that their lethal constructs could not harm a member of the family, even if that required some... supernatural... help. He felt a rough noose being slipped around his neck, and knew from the ongrowing buzz that the time for action had come.
He opened his eyes and looked at the small, thick man that stood afront him, rattling on about justice, enumerating the Argente family's crimes, and stating that this was the dawn of a new age, for Ashfeld, for the kingdom - indeed, for the entire world. Devin would have yawned if he hadn't been intently concentrating on translating every part of his environment into an abstract graphic. Humans were variables, houses and trees formed constants. Their thoughts to the power of their spoken lies formed new functions, running over the chalkboard of Devin's tremendous mental capacity. The wooden planks below him were nothing more than a simple deviation from the ancient trees they had been carved from. The hatch below him would soon open, sending the Argente to lethal depths. It was simple. He equated the intangible air below the hatch to the formula of the wooden planks.
He opened his eyes. The hatch clapped down. He fell for only two inches, then he stood upright, seemingly on thin air. The crowd gasped. Children were taken into their mothers' arms, fathers took hold of their families and led them home in a desperate pace. The gallow's rope was still folded and curly. Devin's neck had not been harmed. He looked at bald, ignorant Oneric. The Captain returned his monotonous gaze with fear and disbelief. Making use of the confusion, the Argente snuck his head out of the noose. The guard to his left made a movement. Devin gracefully evaded the blow and threw the noose over the unfortunate man's head. Spinning behind his attacker, a simple thud in the back sufficed to send the oaf falling into the hatch, to his untimely demise. The second guard grabbed a knife and attempted in vain to cut his comrade loose. Devin grabbed the man's wrist and disarmed him by twisting it to the outside of his body. A quick laceration over the man's jugular ended the life in his eyes, a fountain of crimson fluids indicating Devin's success. Slowly, the brilliant Argente turned around and faced Oneric Kalbazzer, proud Captain of the Guard, now covered in the blood of his subordinate.
"M... m... mercy," the man managed to utter as the wild-haired killer walked up to him, bloodied knife still in hand.
Devin smiled.
Level 0 History
Devin made a rather shocking discovery during an abortive heist in Corone's Great Library. Haunted by wraiths from the past, he hunted for clues in complete darkness - ignorance that eventually culminated when he discovered too tardily that his family's arch-nemesis had killed and taken the form of his father, Lodan Argente. However, Devin, having read the chronicles of his family, discovering his ancestors' true legacy as magehunters, took hold of his final heirloom - the Argent Katars - and unleashed the spirits sealed within. With their help, he finally conquered the vile necromancer's plotting and prepared to resume normal family life, albeit with his new, anti-magical heritage still meandering through the darker corners of his mind.
Name: Devin Argente
Race: Human
Age: 22
Gender: Male
Hair: Auburn
Eyes: Mahogany
Height: 6'0"
Weight: 155 lbs
Languages: Common
Occupation: Enforcer, problem-solver
Appearance
A slender frame with burdened, bentover shoulders. Rather pale tinctures dancing on his skin. Devin Argente appears very much not the son of a succesful mafia leader; his breadth is mediocre at best, and his musclature has the annoying habit to never clearly present itself, even upon undertaking rigorous martial training. Myriad unorderly wires of coppery chestnut, seemingly brimming with neglect, frame a jagged face. Yet upon closer inspection, Argente's hair is always shining with the glow of novelty. Travelling down the trail of his face, we first traverse a rather high forehead. Thin brows do nothing to conceal the monotone, piercing gaze of burnt sienna beneath them. The nose is perfectly slanted, lacking any disfiguring crooks or irregularities. His thin lips need not be described, for any random onlooker would swear that Devin possesses none.
His choice of clothing is rather mundane. Devin prefers lightweight shoes over boots. Black trousers are comfortably belted around his lean waist; a white blouse sloppily hangs over its buckle. Over that blouse, the Argente wears a contrasting black jacket. It's fairly loose and reaches down quite far, almost to his knees, but it does not seem to hamper Devin's movements in any way.
Personality
Devin's presence can make a stone feel uncomfortable. Wherever he find himself, the Argente son jerks his head around in paranoia. His face never changes expression unless in battle, and the eyes encased within it form an everlasting, disturbing stare. Having sustained cerebral damage at birth, Devin Argente is like a calculator. His ability to comprehend the most abstract of formulas and hypotheses, and his tendency to interpret live situations as simple calculations and functions have left him an admired persona at local universities. The darker side of this downright mathemathical approach to life is the apparent absence of any emotion. It is not like Devin does not possess them, but since his calculations rarely return feelings as a good guideline for action, any show of affectivity on his part would be a rare occurence.
Skills
Martial Arts
Devin is able to defend himself in almost any situation, as his body is his weapon. He has reached the level where he can succesfully fend off armed assault by a single, or perhaps two opponent(s). He is familiar with most joint locks and choke holds, and knows of many pain-susceptible areas in any humanoid's anatomy. Although he is fit to teach beginners the basics of his style, any dedicated martial arts expert would most likely defeat him.
Self-Imposed Hallucination
Whether it is the result of the damage to his brain during birth, or an heretofore unknown form of magical aptitude, this is the technique that made Devin the most intimidating and feared opponent the mafia possesses. A self-imposed hallucination allows the Argente to reduce the world to a great amount of constants and variables, basically allowing for a mindset that vaguely represents a Theory of Everything. At that point, the threshold between Devin's thoughts and reality blurs, and he is able to add things to it that normally would not be there.
At this level, he can only establish hallucinations that affect himself: he could, for example, imagine a platform to appear in the air, that will help him reach a higher area. But an ally would not be able to see or feel that platform, consequently can not stand on it, and so can not use it the way Devin can. This is a rather hampering limitation: Devin is not yet able to imagine - and thereby create - a weapon that can actually harm his opponents.
Equipment
The Argent Katars (Awarded here (http://www.althanas.com/world/showthread.php?t=3084))
These exotic weapons are commonly seen throughout more foreign countries like Fallien, but also found amongst Dark Elf assassins in Alerar. In the past, these Katars have been known to possess incredible, anti-magic power; however, these special abilities are locked away from Devin until he improves his prowess in hallucination and concentration. For now, they are simple katars with the thrusting and slashing power of steel shortswords.
History
The sun had not yet fully commenced its ascent into the slate veil of sky that lay over the small town of Ashfeld. Even the mighty winds did not disturb the silence that had infected the streets at this time of day. The twenty or so wooden cottages that stood on the palissaded hilltop showed no sign of life. Yes, the inhabitants of Ashfeld lived a tranquil, quiet life, far away from the turmoil of the great cities. And yet, amidst this picturesque scene of complete placidity, one man nervously paced through his chambers. He was corpulent, to say the least, and his giant moustache trembled in joyful agitation everytime the man turned around, only to traverse the room's only carpet one more time. A smile lay safely encroached between his wobbly cheeks, and his eyes twinkled with pleasure. He regularly let his fingers run over his balding skull, cherishing the last white hairs that still graced its tanned surface. Captain Oneric Kalbazzer was satisfied.
Just two days ago, his town guards had apprehended an atypical, wiry man. It had been a rather lenient event. No violence involved. The man, who had been later identified as Devin Argente, son of the late mafia-head Lodan Argente, had not spoken and not resisted while he was taken away to the single cell that this measly town's jail possessed. He was scheduled for execution five hours from now. Argente was one of the most wanted men in many large cities, but there, the young criminal was protected by the rest of his 'family'. Yet here, in Ashfeld, he would find no such shelter, and Kalbazzer did not for a moment doubt whether the man should be sent to the city for proper trial. That would be alike simply setting him free again. Not to mention that there would be other... people... that would take the credit for his hard work.
Oneric had been informed that Argente was extremely dangerous and - quite possibly - insane. But now that the Captain of the Guard had seen for himself how weakly the Argente presented himself, and how he stuttered, Oneric was certain that this information was merely part of another plot: a plot aimed at robbing him from gaining any prestige with those higher up in the rankings.
~*~*~*~
The gallow. A crude instrument, but awfully effective. Its wooden contraption stood fiercely acenter the village square. Morning was about to cross over into afternoon. Most doubted that the man that was now being led towards the mechanism of death would live to experience that event. Devin Argente himself knew for sure that he would. He hung limply inbetween two physical monstrosities that called themselves 'guards'. Both had a malicious club hanging from the side of their backs. Argente reasoned that he probably could have left any such guard in shambles after a fight, but a plan had formed in his mind from the moment he was apprehended.
He would show this small town the force of the family. Death would not take him here. Silent townsfolk lined both sides of the path that led up to the gallow; they seemed confused as to what was happening. Executions had not taken place here since the dawn of ages. It was almost as though some were disapproving: but of course, being merely farmers or artisans, they had nothing to combat the small battallion of Town Guards that was stationed here. Not that they would have wished to. Cowards. The Argente started to empty his mind. It was essential that these people saw that their lethal constructs could not harm a member of the family, even if that required some... supernatural... help. He felt a rough noose being slipped around his neck, and knew from the ongrowing buzz that the time for action had come.
He opened his eyes and looked at the small, thick man that stood afront him, rattling on about justice, enumerating the Argente family's crimes, and stating that this was the dawn of a new age, for Ashfeld, for the kingdom - indeed, for the entire world. Devin would have yawned if he hadn't been intently concentrating on translating every part of his environment into an abstract graphic. Humans were variables, houses and trees formed constants. Their thoughts to the power of their spoken lies formed new functions, running over the chalkboard of Devin's tremendous mental capacity. The wooden planks below him were nothing more than a simple deviation from the ancient trees they had been carved from. The hatch below him would soon open, sending the Argente to lethal depths. It was simple. He equated the intangible air below the hatch to the formula of the wooden planks.
He opened his eyes. The hatch clapped down. He fell for only two inches, then he stood upright, seemingly on thin air. The crowd gasped. Children were taken into their mothers' arms, fathers took hold of their families and led them home in a desperate pace. The gallow's rope was still folded and curly. Devin's neck had not been harmed. He looked at bald, ignorant Oneric. The Captain returned his monotonous gaze with fear and disbelief. Making use of the confusion, the Argente snuck his head out of the noose. The guard to his left made a movement. Devin gracefully evaded the blow and threw the noose over the unfortunate man's head. Spinning behind his attacker, a simple thud in the back sufficed to send the oaf falling into the hatch, to his untimely demise. The second guard grabbed a knife and attempted in vain to cut his comrade loose. Devin grabbed the man's wrist and disarmed him by twisting it to the outside of his body. A quick laceration over the man's jugular ended the life in his eyes, a fountain of crimson fluids indicating Devin's success. Slowly, the brilliant Argente turned around and faced Oneric Kalbazzer, proud Captain of the Guard, now covered in the blood of his subordinate.
"M... m... mercy," the man managed to utter as the wild-haired killer walked up to him, bloodied knife still in hand.
Devin smiled.
Level 0 History
Devin made a rather shocking discovery during an abortive heist in Corone's Great Library. Haunted by wraiths from the past, he hunted for clues in complete darkness - ignorance that eventually culminated when he discovered too tardily that his family's arch-nemesis had killed and taken the form of his father, Lodan Argente. However, Devin, having read the chronicles of his family, discovering his ancestors' true legacy as magehunters, took hold of his final heirloom - the Argent Katars - and unleashed the spirits sealed within. With their help, he finally conquered the vile necromancer's plotting and prepared to resume normal family life, albeit with his new, anti-magical heritage still meandering through the darker corners of his mind.