Post by Strahd on Aug 8, 2012 17:19:04 GMT -5
Name:Strahd, Volkevik Kleist (Strahhd: Volkeevik: Klest Pronunciation)
Age: Roughly 750 years old, looks 15 however
Race:Methuselah
Class:Warrior-Elemental
Year: 1
Appearance: 5ft 7inches tall and 130lbs, Pale like a corpse for the most part with bright crimson sunken in eyes that become a deep dark crimson when berserk or emotionally excited. His hair is pitch black like ink and is usually kept in a scraggly mess. His face has a abnormal beauty when seen at a glance but up close the gentle structure of his face gives way to a vicious glare that seems permanently attached to it. In order to to keep the sun from ever touching his skin he wears clothing that covers his slender body further hiding the compacted muscle structure that allows him to be lithe and powerful without losing any real mobility.
The clothing he wears when found traveling about is usually a rather tattered travel cloak with a hood. Underneath is a equally worse for wear brigandine suit of armor made of leather chain and a few metal plates scattered about it the entire outfit is steel grey looking, off setting the dark brown cloak. Upon his hands are a pair of white gloves while on his feet is a light brown pair of boots. When not traveling he wears a simple chain mail shirt under whatever shirt he happens to be wearing at the time and forgoes wearing boots for ordinary shoes and no gloves.
Regardless of where he is though around his neck is always a ornate black Gothic cross and on his back in a nondescript sheath is a black sword that is almost as tall as he is and is usually only taken off when sitting in a chair or entering a building with a low ceiling. Usually on his shoulder is a Raven though is is known to fly above him at times.
Family Birth Parents are long dead, Person who made him what he is is still around though never interacting with him directly preferring to see what his "child" can do on his own with his own power. For the sake of simplicity his master is called Jorgwroth Keldvin Sacrisant. Has a raven familiar that follows him everywhere usually perching on his shoulder for lack of any better name it is called Seg-Yasha.
History:Born in a rather small village in what is modern day Siberia he was ordinary, normal and whatever else you could say about him he was average. His parents where ordinary folk as well however despite being a normal human with no special powers he was a curious child and like the cat it got him killed. As at the age of 12 or so he fell from a tree while trying to catch a bird. The fall was the end to his human life as he unluckily landed the wrong way and snapped his neck. While laying there unable to move as his life drifted away. Once everything went completely black he found himself re-awoken by a immense pain only to notice that its cause was sharp fangs buried deep inside his throat from the man who had previously picked him up.
Darkness soon quickly overcame Strahd again as the world seemed to fade away along with his memories of his human family and life waking a few days later his body feeling like it was on fire he found himself alone with a note of thanks laying on the floor next to him. The young newly created vampire Strahd of course tried drinking everything he could find only to regurgitate it before finally attacking a human after losing his mind to the unbearable thirst and draining them all but dry. The damage he inflicted though in the process was lethal and it wasn't long until he found himself next to a corpse with its throat ripped out.
As the years go by Strahd slowly ages physically and after around a hundred years or so and many unfortunate murders between his first his body stops aging once it reached the age of of fifteen physically. The horror with the murders he had caused had long ago now faded. Of course everything he did was at night and on one particular evil night he stumbled across a crypt that held both the cursed blade he would later become famous for wielding but also a corrupted holy relic as well as a scroll containing the method of familiar creation. Not really caring who's crypt it was he takes them before leaving at least not right then.
The next hundred years he wanders from battlefield to battlefield fighting in the wars for whatever human paid him enough. Many a time cutting it close to being killed but surviving mostly on pure dumb luck and his rather recently discovered brute strength. Instead of killing most of his enemies like a human would the few people he managed to slay would often be drained of their blood finding this method of hunting food much more reliable despite the rather high risk. As the wars quiet down in the few points of the sixteenth century he goes takes up wandering the world wondering if there is something more to his life than killing humans.
While traveling he learns about magic or at least Vampire magic and how it can be used for different purposes. The next two centuries he continues to look for his answers and not long after finds himself on the battlefield with a war happening between humans and other abnormal creatures fighting off attackers usually enough to escape he watches the slaughter from the sidelines only on rare occasion getting dragged into it. After the war came to a close the population of vampires with a heritage like his where mostly wiped out along with a large number of gifted humans. The next hundred years he goes back to wandering about and even takes notice of a new generation of vampires who where immune to the most detestable weakness he himself had on his own the sun. Recently he heard of a school for the abnormal and gifted and has figured he would attend it though first he has to find it. The decision was on a whim but also influenced by the fact he might find answers within the institutes walls and could finally put his endless wanderings to rest. However as of now he stumbles and makes his way through a city that is filled with monsters yet devoid of the life and regal it once had.
Personality:A wanderer by nature, but does occasionally stay in one place from time to time. A brute surviving the most recent war and many past wars with luck and brute force, usually in rather barbaric manners while anything but a proper swordsman. Believes in keeping a open mind as well as learning how to better use his weapon, the main reason he enrolled himself in the school to begin with. Hates sunlight and usually avoids it and can't swim as he never bothered learning. Also hates running water and tends to avoid it as well since crossing such makes him sick. While not anti-social he isn't well versed in socializing as he was usually alone in his past travels, enjoys talking to his familiar despite the fact its a bird and doesn't understand anything he says.
When in need of blood he slowly devolves into a unreasoning monster once at the final stage of such he will attack anything on sight out of hunger and blood-lust, it takes about three hours to reach the final stage.Is indifferent to others usually caring little for what side they are on as he is only on his side, but he isn't above helping those who's purpose and goals will help him down his own path.Enjoys battle and can become a bit of a berserker when overcome with blood-lust from the thrill of combat. Beyond that he's ordinary and acts like a normal human teen and for the most part doesn't go out of his way to start trouble as he is to lazy to really bother with causing drama.
Weapons:His familiar which while not used for fighting is more or less the only thing preventing the sun from burning him severely if not just killing him as he hasn't tested to see what happens.
Noctis finem Maledictus Lamina (Night's End The Cursed Blade)A black zweihander that gives off a dark aura while the center of the blade is a glowing crimson groove, for most who touch the blade the material would feel smooth like obsidian and cold like ice even on the hottest of days, for those able to sense curses and the like the blade has a ancient and evil curse like presence hanging on it. Other notable traits of the weapon is that it is fashioned in the older style of Zweihander craftsmanship and when examine properly would clearly predate the 16th century a rather ancient weapon but still as powerful as they day it was forged. The curse it self is insidious as it requires a blood bath every week or it will begin leeching life force from it's user for the upside of the curse those it cuts suffer blood poisoning like effects while not lethal can be rather debilitating, coating the blade in blood makes the weapon heal the damage it has suffered which makes it easy to explain why it is in perfect condition the cursed nature aside.
Proditione Crucem(Betrayal's Cross)A medium sized gothic cross on a necklace that hangs on his neck at all times. The cross itself is made mostly of a blackened platinum while the center is inset with a crimson diamond, it was a holy relic in past history though now its a corrupted and twisted perversion of what it once was. It gives off a magical feel to any who look upon it,The effect it has is that it increases the offensive power of not only physical attacks but also magical while equally decreasing defensive powers of both natures and in true betrayal fashion if used for focusing magical attacks it will constantly drain its owner's life force until the spell or chant is complete at a rate equal to the spell/chants cost for however many posts the magic remains in effect or takes to cast.
Rp SampleWalking quietly into the dark and deserted city of death Strahd stops staring across at the man who had long ago turned him into what he was now.His hands draw the Zweihander from his back and tighten on its hilt. As the left hand falls away he shoulders the blade steadily his left hand making a sharp motion towards the man before him as a the ground erupts with massive sharp spires of earth.
A crooked smiles spreads across Strahd's face as a slight laugh comes from him in a soft tone that was little more than a whisper he steps forwards slowly before breaking into a full charge. The large blade in his right hand coming down towards the man's shoulder on to be caught on a slender estoc blade both of them plunging into the the still erupting spires of earth.
Shifting left and right matching the man they both avoid the spires occasionally they both cut a spire down with their blades. Strahd's eyes open wide as the man moves in towards him and moves to guard as the slender yet small blade pierces into his upper right chest. With a cry of pain Strahd brings his Zweihander back across jumping back into the sea of earth spires. Holding his hand up in the air the sky flashes a few times as lighting rain downs towards the man only to hit thin air as the strange man's movements dodge the incoming bolts with ease.
The use of the two spells causing noticeable exhaustion as the cross around his neck had drain a bit of his life for using them even if it did make the spell stronger it made it impossible for him to cast repeatedly no matter how much skill he might gain with magic. Bent over trying to recuperate some of his strength his left hand grips the wound and when drawn away is coated in blood.
His hands tighten around the Zweihander and again with more determination as he waits for the man to come at him. Seeing the incoming estoc he brings the blade around to bear the brunt of the attack the clash of metal ringing out as Strahd finds himself smashing through several spires and into a already destroyed building. The man sheaths his blade and stands before Strahd and whispers softly before the world fades to black "Not enough, grow more my child".
When Strahd comes to he finds himself in his dorm room his body covered in a sweat of blood as if he had awoken from a nightmare, yet the feeling was much to real to be a dream shaking his head he tries to put it out of mind only to notice he was bleeding rather readily from where he was stabbed in the dream while clearly not life threatening it was a disturbing reality to him that what he just witnessed may have more serious intonations than a mere dream or vision of the future.
Age: Roughly 750 years old, looks 15 however
Race:Methuselah
Class:Warrior-Elemental
Year: 1
Appearance: 5ft 7inches tall and 130lbs, Pale like a corpse for the most part with bright crimson sunken in eyes that become a deep dark crimson when berserk or emotionally excited. His hair is pitch black like ink and is usually kept in a scraggly mess. His face has a abnormal beauty when seen at a glance but up close the gentle structure of his face gives way to a vicious glare that seems permanently attached to it. In order to to keep the sun from ever touching his skin he wears clothing that covers his slender body further hiding the compacted muscle structure that allows him to be lithe and powerful without losing any real mobility.
The clothing he wears when found traveling about is usually a rather tattered travel cloak with a hood. Underneath is a equally worse for wear brigandine suit of armor made of leather chain and a few metal plates scattered about it the entire outfit is steel grey looking, off setting the dark brown cloak. Upon his hands are a pair of white gloves while on his feet is a light brown pair of boots. When not traveling he wears a simple chain mail shirt under whatever shirt he happens to be wearing at the time and forgoes wearing boots for ordinary shoes and no gloves.
Regardless of where he is though around his neck is always a ornate black Gothic cross and on his back in a nondescript sheath is a black sword that is almost as tall as he is and is usually only taken off when sitting in a chair or entering a building with a low ceiling. Usually on his shoulder is a Raven though is is known to fly above him at times.
Family Birth Parents are long dead, Person who made him what he is is still around though never interacting with him directly preferring to see what his "child" can do on his own with his own power. For the sake of simplicity his master is called Jorgwroth Keldvin Sacrisant. Has a raven familiar that follows him everywhere usually perching on his shoulder for lack of any better name it is called Seg-Yasha.
History:Born in a rather small village in what is modern day Siberia he was ordinary, normal and whatever else you could say about him he was average. His parents where ordinary folk as well however despite being a normal human with no special powers he was a curious child and like the cat it got him killed. As at the age of 12 or so he fell from a tree while trying to catch a bird. The fall was the end to his human life as he unluckily landed the wrong way and snapped his neck. While laying there unable to move as his life drifted away. Once everything went completely black he found himself re-awoken by a immense pain only to notice that its cause was sharp fangs buried deep inside his throat from the man who had previously picked him up.
Darkness soon quickly overcame Strahd again as the world seemed to fade away along with his memories of his human family and life waking a few days later his body feeling like it was on fire he found himself alone with a note of thanks laying on the floor next to him. The young newly created vampire Strahd of course tried drinking everything he could find only to regurgitate it before finally attacking a human after losing his mind to the unbearable thirst and draining them all but dry. The damage he inflicted though in the process was lethal and it wasn't long until he found himself next to a corpse with its throat ripped out.
As the years go by Strahd slowly ages physically and after around a hundred years or so and many unfortunate murders between his first his body stops aging once it reached the age of of fifteen physically. The horror with the murders he had caused had long ago now faded. Of course everything he did was at night and on one particular evil night he stumbled across a crypt that held both the cursed blade he would later become famous for wielding but also a corrupted holy relic as well as a scroll containing the method of familiar creation. Not really caring who's crypt it was he takes them before leaving at least not right then.
The next hundred years he wanders from battlefield to battlefield fighting in the wars for whatever human paid him enough. Many a time cutting it close to being killed but surviving mostly on pure dumb luck and his rather recently discovered brute strength. Instead of killing most of his enemies like a human would the few people he managed to slay would often be drained of their blood finding this method of hunting food much more reliable despite the rather high risk. As the wars quiet down in the few points of the sixteenth century he goes takes up wandering the world wondering if there is something more to his life than killing humans.
While traveling he learns about magic or at least Vampire magic and how it can be used for different purposes. The next two centuries he continues to look for his answers and not long after finds himself on the battlefield with a war happening between humans and other abnormal creatures fighting off attackers usually enough to escape he watches the slaughter from the sidelines only on rare occasion getting dragged into it. After the war came to a close the population of vampires with a heritage like his where mostly wiped out along with a large number of gifted humans. The next hundred years he goes back to wandering about and even takes notice of a new generation of vampires who where immune to the most detestable weakness he himself had on his own the sun. Recently he heard of a school for the abnormal and gifted and has figured he would attend it though first he has to find it. The decision was on a whim but also influenced by the fact he might find answers within the institutes walls and could finally put his endless wanderings to rest. However as of now he stumbles and makes his way through a city that is filled with monsters yet devoid of the life and regal it once had.
Personality:A wanderer by nature, but does occasionally stay in one place from time to time. A brute surviving the most recent war and many past wars with luck and brute force, usually in rather barbaric manners while anything but a proper swordsman. Believes in keeping a open mind as well as learning how to better use his weapon, the main reason he enrolled himself in the school to begin with. Hates sunlight and usually avoids it and can't swim as he never bothered learning. Also hates running water and tends to avoid it as well since crossing such makes him sick. While not anti-social he isn't well versed in socializing as he was usually alone in his past travels, enjoys talking to his familiar despite the fact its a bird and doesn't understand anything he says.
When in need of blood he slowly devolves into a unreasoning monster once at the final stage of such he will attack anything on sight out of hunger and blood-lust, it takes about three hours to reach the final stage.Is indifferent to others usually caring little for what side they are on as he is only on his side, but he isn't above helping those who's purpose and goals will help him down his own path.Enjoys battle and can become a bit of a berserker when overcome with blood-lust from the thrill of combat. Beyond that he's ordinary and acts like a normal human teen and for the most part doesn't go out of his way to start trouble as he is to lazy to really bother with causing drama.
Weapons:His familiar which while not used for fighting is more or less the only thing preventing the sun from burning him severely if not just killing him as he hasn't tested to see what happens.
Noctis finem Maledictus Lamina (Night's End The Cursed Blade)A black zweihander that gives off a dark aura while the center of the blade is a glowing crimson groove, for most who touch the blade the material would feel smooth like obsidian and cold like ice even on the hottest of days, for those able to sense curses and the like the blade has a ancient and evil curse like presence hanging on it. Other notable traits of the weapon is that it is fashioned in the older style of Zweihander craftsmanship and when examine properly would clearly predate the 16th century a rather ancient weapon but still as powerful as they day it was forged. The curse it self is insidious as it requires a blood bath every week or it will begin leeching life force from it's user for the upside of the curse those it cuts suffer blood poisoning like effects while not lethal can be rather debilitating, coating the blade in blood makes the weapon heal the damage it has suffered which makes it easy to explain why it is in perfect condition the cursed nature aside.
Proditione Crucem(Betrayal's Cross)A medium sized gothic cross on a necklace that hangs on his neck at all times. The cross itself is made mostly of a blackened platinum while the center is inset with a crimson diamond, it was a holy relic in past history though now its a corrupted and twisted perversion of what it once was. It gives off a magical feel to any who look upon it,The effect it has is that it increases the offensive power of not only physical attacks but also magical while equally decreasing defensive powers of both natures and in true betrayal fashion if used for focusing magical attacks it will constantly drain its owner's life force until the spell or chant is complete at a rate equal to the spell/chants cost for however many posts the magic remains in effect or takes to cast.
Rp SampleWalking quietly into the dark and deserted city of death Strahd stops staring across at the man who had long ago turned him into what he was now.His hands draw the Zweihander from his back and tighten on its hilt. As the left hand falls away he shoulders the blade steadily his left hand making a sharp motion towards the man before him as a the ground erupts with massive sharp spires of earth.
A crooked smiles spreads across Strahd's face as a slight laugh comes from him in a soft tone that was little more than a whisper he steps forwards slowly before breaking into a full charge. The large blade in his right hand coming down towards the man's shoulder on to be caught on a slender estoc blade both of them plunging into the the still erupting spires of earth.
Shifting left and right matching the man they both avoid the spires occasionally they both cut a spire down with their blades. Strahd's eyes open wide as the man moves in towards him and moves to guard as the slender yet small blade pierces into his upper right chest. With a cry of pain Strahd brings his Zweihander back across jumping back into the sea of earth spires. Holding his hand up in the air the sky flashes a few times as lighting rain downs towards the man only to hit thin air as the strange man's movements dodge the incoming bolts with ease.
The use of the two spells causing noticeable exhaustion as the cross around his neck had drain a bit of his life for using them even if it did make the spell stronger it made it impossible for him to cast repeatedly no matter how much skill he might gain with magic. Bent over trying to recuperate some of his strength his left hand grips the wound and when drawn away is coated in blood.
His hands tighten around the Zweihander and again with more determination as he waits for the man to come at him. Seeing the incoming estoc he brings the blade around to bear the brunt of the attack the clash of metal ringing out as Strahd finds himself smashing through several spires and into a already destroyed building. The man sheaths his blade and stands before Strahd and whispers softly before the world fades to black "Not enough, grow more my child".
When Strahd comes to he finds himself in his dorm room his body covered in a sweat of blood as if he had awoken from a nightmare, yet the feeling was much to real to be a dream shaking his head he tries to put it out of mind only to notice he was bleeding rather readily from where he was stabbed in the dream while clearly not life threatening it was a disturbing reality to him that what he just witnessed may have more serious intonations than a mere dream or vision of the future.
