Post by phoenix on Jun 4, 2009 10:58:38 GMT 5.5
Bare with me as I am a touch rusty, but here is Noctis in all his glory.
Name: Noctis (no known last name)
Age: Unable to determine
Race: Immortal
Profession: Mercenary of sorts
Alignment: To whomever pays the highest wage, in this case Mortia
Appearance: Noctis is a man of generous stature. He stands at 6’0” tall with a muscular build. He at all times, no matter the climate around him, wears a black hooded cloak with a badly tattered hem at floor length. Beneath that he wears a black tunic, black breeches, and a grey, long sleeve, loose, cotton shirt. His boots are a black leather with forged iron toes and soles. His most prominent feature however, is an iron mask that is never removed from his face, at least that anyone has ever seen.
Personality: When people are around Noctis, they feel power. Between his demeanor and diction, confidence and security radiate from him. However, there is a peculiar darkness about him, not necessarily evil, but dark. Just as often as he might inspire awe or respect, his form inspires fear and gives any situation an ominous air. Upon meeting new people, Noctis’ behavior is completely reflective of the impression he receives. While always aware, he does not have one particular and typical response to new people. He is a man who is deep seeded in logic and rational, not acting on his emotions so much as deduction. Again, he is not innately evil, but can rationalize anything to fit his agenda, making him more dangerous than most any evil being. He never feels guilt, and approaches any consequence to his actions in the most stoic manner imaginable.
Weapons/Magic: Besides a silver dagger tied to his side and an ancient volume that floats effortlessly by his side at all times, Noctis has no one true weapon, at least in the typical sense of the word. While in himself a powerful user of magic, Noctis tend to have an abundance of talismans with, all of which he has endowed with a great deal of magic in order that he may preserve his own energy for when he needs it, since he is not particularly skilled at melee combat.
As for his magic, he is not limited to any one type. He professes ability in many arts, most of which are of the dark sort, blood magic so to speak. His greatest strengths are Necromancy and Decay. In his presence iron turns to rust, and weak plants lose all their turgidity. The limitation on that however is that the decay requires his touch. Those two aside he is also well versed in elemental manipulation. Unlike the mage, he is not tied into any one element, he is a third party controller, not one who integrate the element into his being. Therefore he is able to use and manipulate them but not in the same ways as a mage would.
So in summary he is a bit of a spell-caster and a bit of an elementalist, not easy to describe so all questions are welcome.
History:
Anomaly- an irregularity that often time cannot be explained
That is Noctis, an anomaly. No one knows of his origin. No one knows of the true extent of his power. There are legends, folklore that do speak of him, but no real man would put much weight into these wives tales. Who would believe a story about an immensely gifted sorcerer that was so badly disfigured while fighting a god, that an iron mask had to be permanently fixed to his visage, after he won the match, of course. Who would believe a story about a man so dark and so evil that the souls of the dead would obey his voice? Who could believe in a man that was rumored to be several hundred years old? No one would believe these stories of course.
While it is difficult to decifer the absolute truth behind Noctis’ past, it was agreed by the few people who even knew of him, that he was born into his craft. It was also agreed that he was older than most any man could dream of being, although it was hard to believe since he was also said to be more physically capable then most twenty year olds. Noctis had only risen into the archives of history, into public awareness, at times of war and desolation, times where a man like him could benefit most and incur the greatest amount of power. He had often been called a “Whore of War,” selling himself to whatever man would pay the most, be it prince, warlord, or even pauper. No one ever knew how to contact him directly. It was always when the whispers began to spread that he would present himself to a ruling power, and offer his elite services. Upon occasion it would take a demonstration or two for the “client” to truly understand what he was worth and capable of, but one side of the war was always “enlightened” in a timely enough manner.
In the matter of Mortia however, the circumstance were rather unique. The witch had been sealed away for centuries, only to be remembered by the few who were able to live to that day or the practioners of her styles of magic. There were scholars who had record of her once existing and her banishment, but they were just as credible as the stories that surrounded Noctis himself. Noctis however, did know of her, but paid little mind to her and her stories, until she came back. A foolish boy mage, under the direction of a famous mentor, broke the sacred seal that imprisoned the witch. Once she was set free, Noctis wasted no time in entering the fray. He knew that she would want blood, power and territory. He also knew that she would need help to accomplish that, and he would go under that guise, as a mercenary offering his assistance, and so he did.
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A light spring breeze, still chilled with winter's breath, blew past the nostrils of Noctis' mask. It was heavy with an odd and difficult stench to place. Unfortunately, it seemed to be pouring out of his destination. Excellent, he thought sighing heavily.
Noctis continued to ride his proud black mare of 17 hands to the gate of a palace. It was here that Mortia now dwelt. At either side of the gate, stood two perfectly mortal guards. Both men were large and muscular, evident even through there armor, the only real difference being in height. The taller man, was the one who was seemingly in charge, while the other only standing at about 5’8”, seemed lost in thought. As soon as they saw Noctis approach, his special brand of charisma kicked in and both of the guards were incredibly nervous at the site of this dark figure.
“Halt!” Shouted the taller guard as Noctis was only a few yards away, “You do not have permission to enter this zone. Either turn back or die at the head of our spears!”
While it was not obvious, the steel clad face of Noctis smirked. “Oh? But I have an invitation from her highness,” he said calmly and placidly, his deep bass tone voice resonating the gate’s court yard. Noctis jumped off of the back of his horse and pulled something out of a side bag, wrapped in blankets. He walked over to the guard and handed the bundle to him. “See? My invitation.”
The guard looked at the bundle then at his small statured partner. He pulled back at the top of the blanket and revealed the form of a still infant. The skin on the child was blue and cold, obviously lifeless for a couple of days. The tall guard was so frightened by this “invitation”, that he proceeded to drop the dead infant on the hard stonework beneath him. Upon impact the infants eyes opened, and a heart piercing scream rang through the air. “Holy Sh…” the guard began to shout. The shorter guard to his left began to quiver uncontrollably.
After a few seconds the baby went silent, and then you could see the eyes clearly, simply black empty sockets. One second more and the infants exploded at that very place, turning into thousands of locusts that began to consume both of the men, penetrating their steel armor. Noctis got back up onto his horse and faced the locust swarm for a moment before his horse began to trot once more.
“Perhaps that will teach you some hospitality,” he murmured as he proceeded past the gates.
Name: Noctis (no known last name)
Age: Unable to determine
Race: Immortal
Profession: Mercenary of sorts
Alignment: To whomever pays the highest wage, in this case Mortia
Appearance: Noctis is a man of generous stature. He stands at 6’0” tall with a muscular build. He at all times, no matter the climate around him, wears a black hooded cloak with a badly tattered hem at floor length. Beneath that he wears a black tunic, black breeches, and a grey, long sleeve, loose, cotton shirt. His boots are a black leather with forged iron toes and soles. His most prominent feature however, is an iron mask that is never removed from his face, at least that anyone has ever seen.
Personality: When people are around Noctis, they feel power. Between his demeanor and diction, confidence and security radiate from him. However, there is a peculiar darkness about him, not necessarily evil, but dark. Just as often as he might inspire awe or respect, his form inspires fear and gives any situation an ominous air. Upon meeting new people, Noctis’ behavior is completely reflective of the impression he receives. While always aware, he does not have one particular and typical response to new people. He is a man who is deep seeded in logic and rational, not acting on his emotions so much as deduction. Again, he is not innately evil, but can rationalize anything to fit his agenda, making him more dangerous than most any evil being. He never feels guilt, and approaches any consequence to his actions in the most stoic manner imaginable.
Weapons/Magic: Besides a silver dagger tied to his side and an ancient volume that floats effortlessly by his side at all times, Noctis has no one true weapon, at least in the typical sense of the word. While in himself a powerful user of magic, Noctis tend to have an abundance of talismans with, all of which he has endowed with a great deal of magic in order that he may preserve his own energy for when he needs it, since he is not particularly skilled at melee combat.
As for his magic, he is not limited to any one type. He professes ability in many arts, most of which are of the dark sort, blood magic so to speak. His greatest strengths are Necromancy and Decay. In his presence iron turns to rust, and weak plants lose all their turgidity. The limitation on that however is that the decay requires his touch. Those two aside he is also well versed in elemental manipulation. Unlike the mage, he is not tied into any one element, he is a third party controller, not one who integrate the element into his being. Therefore he is able to use and manipulate them but not in the same ways as a mage would.
So in summary he is a bit of a spell-caster and a bit of an elementalist, not easy to describe so all questions are welcome.
History:
Anomaly- an irregularity that often time cannot be explained
That is Noctis, an anomaly. No one knows of his origin. No one knows of the true extent of his power. There are legends, folklore that do speak of him, but no real man would put much weight into these wives tales. Who would believe a story about an immensely gifted sorcerer that was so badly disfigured while fighting a god, that an iron mask had to be permanently fixed to his visage, after he won the match, of course. Who would believe a story about a man so dark and so evil that the souls of the dead would obey his voice? Who could believe in a man that was rumored to be several hundred years old? No one would believe these stories of course.
While it is difficult to decifer the absolute truth behind Noctis’ past, it was agreed by the few people who even knew of him, that he was born into his craft. It was also agreed that he was older than most any man could dream of being, although it was hard to believe since he was also said to be more physically capable then most twenty year olds. Noctis had only risen into the archives of history, into public awareness, at times of war and desolation, times where a man like him could benefit most and incur the greatest amount of power. He had often been called a “Whore of War,” selling himself to whatever man would pay the most, be it prince, warlord, or even pauper. No one ever knew how to contact him directly. It was always when the whispers began to spread that he would present himself to a ruling power, and offer his elite services. Upon occasion it would take a demonstration or two for the “client” to truly understand what he was worth and capable of, but one side of the war was always “enlightened” in a timely enough manner.
In the matter of Mortia however, the circumstance were rather unique. The witch had been sealed away for centuries, only to be remembered by the few who were able to live to that day or the practioners of her styles of magic. There were scholars who had record of her once existing and her banishment, but they were just as credible as the stories that surrounded Noctis himself. Noctis however, did know of her, but paid little mind to her and her stories, until she came back. A foolish boy mage, under the direction of a famous mentor, broke the sacred seal that imprisoned the witch. Once she was set free, Noctis wasted no time in entering the fray. He knew that she would want blood, power and territory. He also knew that she would need help to accomplish that, and he would go under that guise, as a mercenary offering his assistance, and so he did.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
A light spring breeze, still chilled with winter's breath, blew past the nostrils of Noctis' mask. It was heavy with an odd and difficult stench to place. Unfortunately, it seemed to be pouring out of his destination. Excellent, he thought sighing heavily.
Noctis continued to ride his proud black mare of 17 hands to the gate of a palace. It was here that Mortia now dwelt. At either side of the gate, stood two perfectly mortal guards. Both men were large and muscular, evident even through there armor, the only real difference being in height. The taller man, was the one who was seemingly in charge, while the other only standing at about 5’8”, seemed lost in thought. As soon as they saw Noctis approach, his special brand of charisma kicked in and both of the guards were incredibly nervous at the site of this dark figure.
“Halt!” Shouted the taller guard as Noctis was only a few yards away, “You do not have permission to enter this zone. Either turn back or die at the head of our spears!”
While it was not obvious, the steel clad face of Noctis smirked. “Oh? But I have an invitation from her highness,” he said calmly and placidly, his deep bass tone voice resonating the gate’s court yard. Noctis jumped off of the back of his horse and pulled something out of a side bag, wrapped in blankets. He walked over to the guard and handed the bundle to him. “See? My invitation.”
The guard looked at the bundle then at his small statured partner. He pulled back at the top of the blanket and revealed the form of a still infant. The skin on the child was blue and cold, obviously lifeless for a couple of days. The tall guard was so frightened by this “invitation”, that he proceeded to drop the dead infant on the hard stonework beneath him. Upon impact the infants eyes opened, and a heart piercing scream rang through the air. “Holy Sh…” the guard began to shout. The shorter guard to his left began to quiver uncontrollably.
After a few seconds the baby went silent, and then you could see the eyes clearly, simply black empty sockets. One second more and the infants exploded at that very place, turning into thousands of locusts that began to consume both of the men, penetrating their steel armor. Noctis got back up onto his horse and faced the locust swarm for a moment before his horse began to trot once more.
“Perhaps that will teach you some hospitality,” he murmured as he proceeded past the gates.
