SkyShards
09-21-07, 03:40 AM
Name: Garoda
Title: 'A goddamn thorn in our side' for being a general embarrassment to the Legion that he once served.
Age: 36
Hair Color: Brown
Eye Color: Yellow
Height: 6'8
Weight: 180lb
Occupation: Honour-bound Exiled Blood-Sucker
Race: Human/Accursed
This sickness seems to take from a few Vampiric attributes. The only effects of this is he requires very fresh human blood to keep a peak strength (still warm) and his canines retract out when he gets into blood lust. He does not delve deep in the origins of what he dubs ‘My Curse’. Rather he tries to deal with it each day by killing the unworthy and undergo the soul-piercing humility of drinking their blood.
Appearance:
Garoda (http://i24.photobucket.com/albums/c22/aeschinestheone4444/darkelve.jpg) is tall and of light to medium build, his height giving him the opportunity to face down opposition amongst the ranks. His waist-length brown hair is pulled back into a tight pony tail, stretched away from a face that looks if chipped from rock. Harsh lines and long forgotten wounds etch deep within his face, like emotional scars, giving him the permanent expression of a disgruntled and harsh man. His yellow eyes narrow and razor sharp, attuned to the daily battles faced long ago.
The armour that once was worn daily has been stripped away leaving him with a simple green suit of fine material – allowing warmth and freedom of movement. Black boots extend up his calves underneath his trousers, thick and sturdy for much time spent walking. He smells of the forest, a sign of much time spent away from any towns and cities.
Personality:
Garoda is harsh, unforgiving and ice cold. He is imposing not only by his height, but by his harsh demeanour and the mood of any room he enters changes drastically - often to aggression. His relationship to others, if any, is merely professional. When it comes to leading others, Garoda knows how to bring the best out of a soldier without resorting to a smattering of compliments and flattery.
Garoda serves truth. The undeniable facts of life that he constantly seeks and lives by. It is a whispered code in which the boundaries and rules are barely defined and almost made up by the warrior as situations arise. With his skill of analysis attained during his soldier days, he is able to see deeply into others and will convey the blunt truth to others even if it causes anguish or anger. Honour, respect and pride become a source of judgement on other people and often leads to the drawing of his sword. The reasons for his kills are often questionable.
After becoming an Accursed, things have changed for this man, especially how he saw himself. The act of drinking another’s blood for his own well-being has been an act of great humility for such a proud fellow. His thoughts teeter along the brink of suicide, for he can not see any way out of his hellish curse, but death seems too easy as an escape. The warrior’s spirit urges him forward toward an honourable path, giving him some control over the blood lust attributed to the Accursed and thus it saves him his sanity and his way of the code.
On the edge of civilisation he roams, slaying those who deserve it while bending to one knee for his curse, sucking the blood of the fallen.
History:
Garoda was an unwanted child, born into a world for little reasons than for the mistakes made by his so-called parents. The moment he was born he was cast out to die like many others, it was only luck that a group of soldiers were passing by. They were of the old folk, rough weapon wielders that roamed about killing off the unworthy. Though they suffered old wounds and harsh weather, the lived for the one kill that was meant to make the world a better place. The four men were no mothers, they simply gave the baby the necessities to live. Somehow the baby managed to stay alive in its early years and soon developed into a frail child. From the moment the child was able to speak, to walk, to understand the complexities of the world, the child was given a weapon to grasp. There was no doubt for their intentions: this child was to live by their ways.
Once Garoda had lived to his adult years, he was forcibly cast away and Garoda never saw the four swordsmen again. Garoda had joined the Legion - a small sect from the larger force that operated in Corone, made up of first rate, high quality soldiers that were always thrown into the front line and had a knack for surviving. After much time impressing his superiors with his skill in combat and tactics, he rose to the rank of General.
As time went on, Garoda was slowly becoming physically weak. During a particular battle, Garoda was forced to rest at one of the tents behind the lines. With a strange raw desire for blood, he snapped the healers neck and drained him. With renewed strength from the red liquid, he then took up his zambatou from its shrine holdings and cleaved the guard outside in half. The camp went on alert, warning of the ‘general murdering his own men’. In great humility of what he seemed to have contracted, Garoda escaped the camp on horseback and found refuge into the mountains. On the way up, he evaded constant attempts for the Legion to have him killed. The night after the escape he considered suicide, knowing that the longer he kept alive, the more people he would have to kill and drain them of their liquid life in exchange for his own strength. By morning he could not bring himself to end his life for he would not go out out so easily. Thus, he would live in a cruel limbo between life in constant dishonour and a nihilistic death.
By the next day, Garoda had come across a deserter, his foot severed and his armour covered in a forest of arrows. He was in a terrible wreck and after much rambling, revealed he had also escaped the battlefield from which Garoda had been fighting in. This was a man that was almost the opposite of everything Garoda stood for: an unkept, coward with no pride. The deserter begged the general to kill him for his dishonour but Garoda refused. Decapitating crazy men was not an honourable way to start off his new way of life. From then on, the deserted was to become an annoying companion and the only connection to the life he was driven from.
Of recent times, Garoda spends his days moving about from civilisation, killing and draining those he believes unworthy to live their precious lives. He is known of as the ‘The Thorn’ to the outside world, told in ballads as a crazed killer with revenge on all civilisation.
Skills:
+ Swordsmanship: Garoda skill with the sword is above average. He is able to use the momentum to counter the blade's heaviness and therefore is not too much at a disadvantage to a quicker blade.
+ Spirit Sword: Can sense his opponent’s spirit after some interaction to get an idea of their alignment on the evil to good spectrum. (to be used as any attack, not as a godmode ability)
+ Spirit Calm: Can suppress his desire for blood for a while when needed.
Equipment:
‘My Horse Cleaver’: A 7ft Zambatou. A thin, long blade (5ft) of steel folded countless times and a 2ft hilt. It’s sharp and heavy enough to cleave several people in half at once. It is carried under his arm when not in use and if enemies do decide to show their ugly mugs, the sheath can be cast aside and the sword play can commence.
NPC:
Name: ‘Fool’ (Garoda is responsible for his name ie: ‘You fool’.)
Age: Unknown, he seems to be in his twenties.
Personality: An excited, raving lunatic with great loyalty but also great cowardice. He wants Garoda to kill him, but has been refused. His ramblings can get out of hand quickly though they often shed light on Garoda’s thoughts and ways. It can also show a truth with great clarity, though Garoda never sees it through all the rambling.
Appearance: This is a man frozen in time. He is still living the battle that he ran from and his body shows this too. He is a soldier but with the dirtiness equivalent of a peasant. His face is thin and splattered with mud. His brown hair is long and unkept. He has a constantly bright face and excitement about him.
His armour is still spattered by blood and is worn and stained with use. Over twenty arrows protrude from his armour in different areas, some intact, others snapped at different lengths. He lost his whole foot in battle and uses his katana as a kind of walking stick. His sword is in terrible shape, shattered beyond repair.
Title: 'A goddamn thorn in our side' for being a general embarrassment to the Legion that he once served.
Age: 36
Hair Color: Brown
Eye Color: Yellow
Height: 6'8
Weight: 180lb
Occupation: Honour-bound Exiled Blood-Sucker
Race: Human/Accursed
This sickness seems to take from a few Vampiric attributes. The only effects of this is he requires very fresh human blood to keep a peak strength (still warm) and his canines retract out when he gets into blood lust. He does not delve deep in the origins of what he dubs ‘My Curse’. Rather he tries to deal with it each day by killing the unworthy and undergo the soul-piercing humility of drinking their blood.
Appearance:
Garoda (http://i24.photobucket.com/albums/c22/aeschinestheone4444/darkelve.jpg) is tall and of light to medium build, his height giving him the opportunity to face down opposition amongst the ranks. His waist-length brown hair is pulled back into a tight pony tail, stretched away from a face that looks if chipped from rock. Harsh lines and long forgotten wounds etch deep within his face, like emotional scars, giving him the permanent expression of a disgruntled and harsh man. His yellow eyes narrow and razor sharp, attuned to the daily battles faced long ago.
The armour that once was worn daily has been stripped away leaving him with a simple green suit of fine material – allowing warmth and freedom of movement. Black boots extend up his calves underneath his trousers, thick and sturdy for much time spent walking. He smells of the forest, a sign of much time spent away from any towns and cities.
Personality:
Garoda is harsh, unforgiving and ice cold. He is imposing not only by his height, but by his harsh demeanour and the mood of any room he enters changes drastically - often to aggression. His relationship to others, if any, is merely professional. When it comes to leading others, Garoda knows how to bring the best out of a soldier without resorting to a smattering of compliments and flattery.
Garoda serves truth. The undeniable facts of life that he constantly seeks and lives by. It is a whispered code in which the boundaries and rules are barely defined and almost made up by the warrior as situations arise. With his skill of analysis attained during his soldier days, he is able to see deeply into others and will convey the blunt truth to others even if it causes anguish or anger. Honour, respect and pride become a source of judgement on other people and often leads to the drawing of his sword. The reasons for his kills are often questionable.
After becoming an Accursed, things have changed for this man, especially how he saw himself. The act of drinking another’s blood for his own well-being has been an act of great humility for such a proud fellow. His thoughts teeter along the brink of suicide, for he can not see any way out of his hellish curse, but death seems too easy as an escape. The warrior’s spirit urges him forward toward an honourable path, giving him some control over the blood lust attributed to the Accursed and thus it saves him his sanity and his way of the code.
On the edge of civilisation he roams, slaying those who deserve it while bending to one knee for his curse, sucking the blood of the fallen.
History:
Garoda was an unwanted child, born into a world for little reasons than for the mistakes made by his so-called parents. The moment he was born he was cast out to die like many others, it was only luck that a group of soldiers were passing by. They were of the old folk, rough weapon wielders that roamed about killing off the unworthy. Though they suffered old wounds and harsh weather, the lived for the one kill that was meant to make the world a better place. The four men were no mothers, they simply gave the baby the necessities to live. Somehow the baby managed to stay alive in its early years and soon developed into a frail child. From the moment the child was able to speak, to walk, to understand the complexities of the world, the child was given a weapon to grasp. There was no doubt for their intentions: this child was to live by their ways.
Once Garoda had lived to his adult years, he was forcibly cast away and Garoda never saw the four swordsmen again. Garoda had joined the Legion - a small sect from the larger force that operated in Corone, made up of first rate, high quality soldiers that were always thrown into the front line and had a knack for surviving. After much time impressing his superiors with his skill in combat and tactics, he rose to the rank of General.
As time went on, Garoda was slowly becoming physically weak. During a particular battle, Garoda was forced to rest at one of the tents behind the lines. With a strange raw desire for blood, he snapped the healers neck and drained him. With renewed strength from the red liquid, he then took up his zambatou from its shrine holdings and cleaved the guard outside in half. The camp went on alert, warning of the ‘general murdering his own men’. In great humility of what he seemed to have contracted, Garoda escaped the camp on horseback and found refuge into the mountains. On the way up, he evaded constant attempts for the Legion to have him killed. The night after the escape he considered suicide, knowing that the longer he kept alive, the more people he would have to kill and drain them of their liquid life in exchange for his own strength. By morning he could not bring himself to end his life for he would not go out out so easily. Thus, he would live in a cruel limbo between life in constant dishonour and a nihilistic death.
By the next day, Garoda had come across a deserter, his foot severed and his armour covered in a forest of arrows. He was in a terrible wreck and after much rambling, revealed he had also escaped the battlefield from which Garoda had been fighting in. This was a man that was almost the opposite of everything Garoda stood for: an unkept, coward with no pride. The deserter begged the general to kill him for his dishonour but Garoda refused. Decapitating crazy men was not an honourable way to start off his new way of life. From then on, the deserted was to become an annoying companion and the only connection to the life he was driven from.
Of recent times, Garoda spends his days moving about from civilisation, killing and draining those he believes unworthy to live their precious lives. He is known of as the ‘The Thorn’ to the outside world, told in ballads as a crazed killer with revenge on all civilisation.
Skills:
+ Swordsmanship: Garoda skill with the sword is above average. He is able to use the momentum to counter the blade's heaviness and therefore is not too much at a disadvantage to a quicker blade.
+ Spirit Sword: Can sense his opponent’s spirit after some interaction to get an idea of their alignment on the evil to good spectrum. (to be used as any attack, not as a godmode ability)
+ Spirit Calm: Can suppress his desire for blood for a while when needed.
Equipment:
‘My Horse Cleaver’: A 7ft Zambatou. A thin, long blade (5ft) of steel folded countless times and a 2ft hilt. It’s sharp and heavy enough to cleave several people in half at once. It is carried under his arm when not in use and if enemies do decide to show their ugly mugs, the sheath can be cast aside and the sword play can commence.
NPC:
Name: ‘Fool’ (Garoda is responsible for his name ie: ‘You fool’.)
Age: Unknown, he seems to be in his twenties.
Personality: An excited, raving lunatic with great loyalty but also great cowardice. He wants Garoda to kill him, but has been refused. His ramblings can get out of hand quickly though they often shed light on Garoda’s thoughts and ways. It can also show a truth with great clarity, though Garoda never sees it through all the rambling.
Appearance: This is a man frozen in time. He is still living the battle that he ran from and his body shows this too. He is a soldier but with the dirtiness equivalent of a peasant. His face is thin and splattered with mud. His brown hair is long and unkept. He has a constantly bright face and excitement about him.
His armour is still spattered by blood and is worn and stained with use. Over twenty arrows protrude from his armour in different areas, some intact, others snapped at different lengths. He lost his whole foot in battle and uses his katana as a kind of walking stick. His sword is in terrible shape, shattered beyond repair.