Abbadon Nightfang

[Abbadon]

"Death veils us all. You cannot elude it, yet you can ensure that it has a hellish time capturing you.” Abbadon Rivael Information Race: Kelvic Birthday: Winter 483 AV Age: 26 years old Gender: Male Physical Description Abbadon stands slightly above 6 feet tall, the Kelvic being blessed with an athletic body masked in dozens of small, intricate runess etched across his sinewy frame. The patterns are simple and neat, forming either perfect lines (for example the ones which trail from his shoulders towards his elbows) or circles (the ones which lay in slumber both on his chest and back), all of them composing small poems or hymns which portray a notable segment of his life. Velvet robes garnished with a sortiment of odd tablets (the fragile plaques contain quite a taxing burdon, the items designed to both decelerate the male's actions whilst also built to admonish a worthy foe of his rhythm, significantly lowering the advantages Abbadon gains in a skirmish through the use of the Flux) conceal his physique, the items embellished with a multitude of small objects (arm-pads, bracers and the likes) assembled to offer light protection against basic mellee contraptions. A solitary staff assumes the role of a 'guillotine', the item clinged upon the male's back through a series of thin, light-brown leather threads. Alike the clothes which garb his torso, the weapon is "enhanced" with a series of stones meant to slightly vibrate when hastily sprinting or when positioned in gale winds, thus announcing the shapeshifter's advent. Character Concept Abbadon is a secluded and quite chilling individual. Bred to perish in the forlorn valleys which rapidly morphed in the settlement now "christened" as his own asylum, he has grown to surmise that a miscreant such as himself has no place in the bustling citadels in which other races dwell. Prudent and circumspect, he treats those who cross his path with the same philosophy which he applies to the feral beasts inhabiting the lands: Dismiss his presence, and he shall choose to neglect yours. The journeys which place him outside of his habitat are few, mostly due to the perils which in his own assumptions, blossom outside of the oaken woods sheltering his valley. Yet, alike every breathing being, in the depths of his heart and thoughts, Rivael craves for companionship. Thus, in rare occasions (mostly whilst Summer liberates her golden shafts upon us), a cursed thirst for education and fraternity subdues the growing anxiety which the male displays towards the other races, forcing Abbadon to set upon short voyages in the quest to claim the burning desires which dwell inside his soul. History Abbadon Nightfang is, or was, a famed individual in the settlement which sheltered him in the first few years of his life. When informed of such a feat, you would of course portray that the justification would be his potential participation in brave rescues, courageous pursuits or the creation of cunning agendas which would ensure the continued existencel of his population in the face of the on-going struggle for dominion over the lands. It was neither of the above. Abbadon was well-known for two, possibly three things: First of all, ever since he first came in to the World he seemed a tad, insane, always injuring himself as a baby, always drawing peculiar objects in the muck and always causing other youngsters to whimper. As he grew up the trait continued to manifest itself in different ways, the man becoming as superstitious as an old hag and, in the process also managing to pick up a couple of nervous tics, such as fiddling with his tail when he would shape-shift. The second would be the fact that as he reached the age of ten both him and his elder siebling, Raval, relinquished the settlement's shelter and seeked their own paths, both of them aspiring to become feared combatants, presuming that once they would be talented enough in the murderous arts they would be able to bring the skirmishes to a halt by dispatching the different chieftains which held control over the multitude of clans scattered throughout the forests. Yet the deities act in inexplicable ways. At the fragile age of twenty, Raval offered his last breath when apprehended by the remains of a cluster of Myrians traversing the oaken woods in which the siblings paused for a laconic recession. Devastated by his loss, the surviving Kelvic strongly believed the chastisement was sent upon him for leaving the boundaries of his nest whilst volunteering his body, heart and thoughts to the crafts of assassination. Vagabonding for years without end, the male coincidentally stuttered across the candid remnants of his former sanctuary. Alike the cohort of fruit wrenching a sapling's appendages so did the alloy of tears imbue the male's limbs with a veiled burden, delaying the comprehension of the facts which lay before his eyes. Abbadon now was, at least in the halls of his own contemplations, the last bastion of his kin in these desolate groves. "Death veils us all. You cannot elude it, yet you can ensure that it has a hellish time capturing you." - The sentence hesitatingly conveyed past sere lips. Training (Skills, Arcana, Gnosis, Lore) Hunting - 10/100 (Racial) Flux - 15/100 (Starting Package) Illusion - 15/100 (Starting Package) Wilderness Survival - 10/100 (Starting Package) Quarterstaff - 10/100 (Starting Package) Equipment - Velvet robes (3 gm) - Full Cape (2 gm) - Hat, Broad-Brim (8 gm) - Quarterstaff (1 gm) - Silk Sash (4 gm) - 1 Waterskin - 1 Backpack which contains: 1 Set of Toiletries (comb, brush, razor, soap) - Food for a week - 1 eating knife - Map detailing all the cities and regions of Mizahar (heirloom)