Post by Seren on May 29, 2008 15:48:59 GMT -5
OUT OF CHARACTER
What do we call you: Eareth works.
Are you older then 16: Yep.
What time zone are you in: Mt.
How long have you been rp’ing: 4 years
Have you read all the rules: yes.
Would you think of yourself as an active person: yes.
You are ok that this site is rated R: yes.
Who is your play by (Character model): Sephiroth
CHARACTER INFORMATION
Name: Originally Garret Trouns but that was lost to him long ago. The Telmarines called him Tash's Claw but since he has escaped he has taken the name of Seren translated "the Poison."
Month/Day of birth: unkown.
Race: Believed to originally have come from Archenland.
Gender: Male.
Appearance (*Give at least one paragraph):
Seren is a man literally torn by his past. His hair has turned snow white and grows long his eyes a pale pale blue color. He wears black combat pants a long black cloak with a cowl and metal shoulder and forearm guards. He carries a long slim samurai sword and two smaller knives on the inside of his cloak.
Martial Status: single.
Family: none known.
PERSONAL INFORMATION
Likes/Dislikes:
Likes:
Combat,
the Dark,
birds but especially hawks.
Dislikes:
People on the whole but he especially hates the Telmarines.
Weakness (or what he perceives as weakness)
Personality: (*Give at least on paragraph)
Seren's personality was formed in the harsh dark quarters of the Telmarine dungeons. He speaks seldom for he was seldom spoken too and does not understand it's purpose. He is grim and and hard and his humor is a dark reminder of his corruption. He has discovered certain things of the world without since his escape, he loves birds for flight fascinates him entirely. Love is something he was not designed for and does not yet fully comprehend but he is gradually perhaps becoming more human as time passes. Slightly.
ROLE PLAY SAMPLE
There are many stories about the creature that roams the desert. Some say he is a demon, a child of Tash the son of Death Himself. The truth is more simple, and more terrifying. It was not some demon that created him, some in-human and evil force, no. This demon man was created by man himself.
He was stolen in a raid as a child. Most of his village became slaves, most were killed, but he was taken. He had made the mistake of fighting back when the Telmarines had come had grabbed the sword from his fathers dead hands and at the age of six he killed a man. Not a lucky random strike or a stab in the back, he had just killed him lightning quick and surprisingly strong it had taken three men just to capture him.
For the next fourteen years of his life he never emerged from the dark hole into which he was cast. Everyday he was tortured, everyday he was trained. Tash's Claw they had called him the greatest warrior ever born. Sacrifices were made to the terrible god and there prayers were answered. Tash's Claw ceased to need food, instead he needed only blood to survive, human blood. The blood granted him terrible strength and speed but everyday stole from him more of his humanity. His hair turned snowy white his eyes paled and became sensitive to the light and his masters were glad of it. "A monster" they said "a force that none can stand" and they offered their sacrifices to their god and smiled and were content. But they were far to right. "None can stand" they had said and not realized that they had condemned themselves. The bloodbath that marked Tash's Claws escape is still whispered of in dark room. "The wrath of god" they mutter and cross their hearts and close their eyes.
Seren woke up from his dream. "the wrath of god indeed" he said quitely to himself. Around the stones under which he slept his birds were gathered, three hawks and an eagle all gazing out into the desert sands. Seren followed their example gazing into the sand with his pale blue eyes. It had taken him nearly to get used to the light but he had managed it though his eyes would still moisten now and then if exposed to long. His thirst for blood remained unquenched but traveling Caravans of Merchents served to keep him fed. Seren, Tash's Claw, reached up and ran his hand along the cool steel of his sword. Something had been troubling his dreams of late, an unseen foe striking at him, a warning and a promise of battle. He licked his lips and smiled at the thought. Merchants were fine for food but hardly a challenge, slaughtering them was second nature, easy and no fun at all. He yearned for a good fight a fight like the one he had had that night one year ago when he escaped. Perhaps more was to come, perhaps that was what the dreams were telling him, perhaps it was time to move from the desert
