Diaes

Name: Pleiadies Aedroniscus Godalfaign Yaega
( a much shorter callname:Diaes )
( pronounced: Dee'es )

Species: Nosferatu also Vampire also Revenant also Un-Dead

Age: roughly 2137 years ( he currently looks as though he is about 38 )

Gender: male

Good, Evil, Neutral?: evil ( If he ever does anything good, you have permission to kick me. )

Appearance: ( Pictures are appreciated if you can find or modify one. )
( Picture as of yet is unavailable )

His entire appearance is actually quite variable as is his apparent age. When he first enters the realm now seen, and as he has a tendency to maintain himself, he is about 5'10" in height. Though his weight is capable of varying do to his abilities, his gauged weight would be 130pounds. He gives the effect of being tall, even to those who are taller still than himself, thin,and pale. His skin is actually a very waxen hue, but even so there are indications of life underneath, as though perhaps there might be a molten core underneath the layer of ice. This heat manifests itself in a certain ruddiness in the cheeks. His skin is, however cold to the touch, cold like steel left out in the winter during the morning frost. He has long dark brown hair that is ragged and yet somehow brings with it a sense of refinement. The hair itself falls in a manner that is quite straight to a point somewhere in the middle of his rib cage. It frames a face of incredible severity. He is not quite gaunt, but the sharpness of his bones is quite evident, specifically in the face which is quite angular and sharp. He has a relatively angular nose with thin nostrils over thin but very red lips. The lips peel back ever so slightly to reveal overly large, notably pointed teeth. He has not the broad chin but rather a tapered one which leads back to ears that are ever so slightly pointed. The eyes are what really catch the attention though, they are big and dark, like twin pools reflecting a moonless night where clouds obscure even the stars from shining, of the kind that breed the greatest dreams. However, these self-same eyes become lit with what appears to be hellfire when he is taken by the vampiric power. He is chilling to look at, with what appears a very cruel face, though it be completely unwrinkled, or perhaps because. He has a lean body with obviously strong muscles, but not a body-builder's. Both his hands and feet have claw like protrusions instead of nails or perhaps they are just incredibly sharp large nails. Who can tell? He wears all black, the outfit being of a slightly bygone nature. Trousers crudely hemmed at the bottoms that cling to his frame only by the grace of a slightly thick belt. His night-dark shirt is retained by the shade-colored vest that bears a strange pattern that gives the vague impression of roses. This is covered by a coat which is further covered by an overcoat of trench-coat proportions. It's high collar slightly obscures the thin white neck of its owner. The clawed feet are usually adorned by a fairly nice pair of shoes from which black stockings protrude to creep up his legs. During contact with the rest of the world he is also most generally seen with a pair of black leather gloves hiding the thin long fingers of his hands. Ever so rarely would he wear a low, black, wide-brimmed hat. The overall effect: unrestrained menace.

History: Deep in a past long forgotten by even the spirits of old, before even the advent of the Roman Empire, There were, in the eastern reaches of a land that would much later become known as Carpathia, legends that would not be so easily forgotten were digging in their first roots. the people who lived in this mountainous region were forever to be famed for their bravery on the field of battle, as defenders of their lands. What none could have guessed was that those people might be fighting not to keep other nations out, but rather struggling to keep something more powerful locked inside. Something the likes of which the world could not imagine.

So it was that in a prosperous town in the mountains that there came to be a tradition that every thirteen years, to keep the powers that ruled the lands at bay, the villagers would send all the children of the age of transformation from child to adult on a journey to a certain valley. Of this number exactly three would be taken and the others sent back. For those who returned it was like a right of passage, but no one would ever see the three taken ones again.

It was in this village that a boy was born. He was not special in any outstanding way, in fact he was quite a charming and kind young lad of an abnormally mundane sort. Early on he showed an interest in scholarship, and was apprenticed to the only man in the village who new anything of written characters, an old fellow that was in possession of what may have been the largest repository of legible text and scrolls in the entirety of what would become south-eastern Europe. There, over the years he read many things. These things affected his life in many ways, but none so much as the day he found the old scrolls with the strange symbols. Those markings on the scrolls should never have been recorded and should have been burned after they were, but somehow they had survived. They spoke of many things. It started off with the basics, if magic can be called basic, but spiraled down into a depth unimaginable.

If the boy had found these when he was younger, he would have disposed of them immediately, but now he was almost to become a man and curiosity overcame suspicion. Who is to say what would have happened had he not found that one spell or the reference to the demon's court known as Scholomance? Who is to say what would have happened had he not just meant to innocently learn the things of a darker nature? For knowledge there is always a price. What the boy did not realize then or ever was that for his curiosity, he would lose his very soul. As he read on and acted upon the things he learned, he did marvelous things, things that he could not have imagined possible, but these things took certain tolls.
Over time he became callous to the price, until finally he found that one last spell.

Immortality is an enticing thing, strength of many men is also a powerful motivator, but that spell contained in it much more than just these things. It would cost lives, many lives to complete the incantation, so for a time, the spell was hidden back where it belonged in the dank library, under piles of useless texts covered in irrelevant figures. It was on that night of the thirteenth year, the night of a full moon, the night of the sacrifice that the world fell apart just a little bit more.

When the coven of mages that was sent out to retrieve the children arrived, they found a clearing full of dead young men and women. The bodies were arrayed in a strange geometric fashion and in the center of the shape sat a boy, the white gown that adorned all of the young ones was stained red with blood and it still glistened wet on his lips. Even those worshipers of evil were horrified at the sight of the wicked smile on that young man's face. One of the mages promptly raised his hand and launched a fiery dart at the boy. The body and clothing were completely incinerated with a deep scorch mark left in the center of the clearing. They proceeded to eliminate the bodies, but not before procuring the little pieces that might be useful to them. They returned to their place, the Scholomance, where they learned the ways of demons, those Fallen from above. They were met at the gate by the sight of a young man talking with the gatekeeper. As they approached, the lad turned and they saw that same ghastly smile. Again the same mage as before moved to destroy the abomination, but now the fire had no power over the diabolic lad who merely stood smiling at the coven. They could only watch as the smile slowly melted.

They would be the first victims of the newly created monster. It is said that the beasts of the earth may eat any meat they like but that once they first acquire the taste for human flesh they cannot go back. Some believe the same of vampires, though they be not of this earth. Perhaps this one would have been able, but that was never to be, for his taste for the flesh of men began that night and that same lust for the blood of the sons of Adam would remain with him for the rest of his existence. He, or perhaps It, would stay at the "school" to learn the ways and rules of magic and of things not so natural. His self-imposed graduation would occur many years later, but he would remember his origins.

The creature returned to the village from whence he came. Those he had known were all dead, but the library endured. He returned, a stranger and, at first, only caused mild curiosity. It was only when several of the strongest men of the village were found dead, either with their necks broken or drained of blood, that the curiosity turned to suspicion. People long steeped in tradition began instantly to make assumptions. In true form of all frightened humans, they sought to exterminate the abomination. For their insolence he burned the town and all that lived in it perished, conveniently eliminating the source of his transformation to power.

Over the years, the creature gained knowledge. He moved across the world's height and breadth searching for answers to questions that should not be asked. Finally, through ruin and horror, there has come that one question that must plague us all someday, "How shall I die?" One might wonder at such a thing, but only the greatest minority ever find the answer, and even eternal life may not be enough to find the end of that one simple question. Even so, he seeks, and strangely hopes for the answer. Why, with so much power, with unlimited potential, why could death be desired to life? And now, when he is so close, will the answer set free the beast? Is it remorse that drives him? Or could it be something stronger still? What awaits him in death that he would long for it more than even the supreme power granted him by the self same curse with which he bound himself to this earth?

Powers:(I am basing the powers, and limitations, of this vampire mostly off of my experience of the book Dracula by Bram Stocker) He has inhuman strength and speed. The power of a shape shifter is granted to him so that he may choose his physical form and appearance at will. He can mesmerize humans, and those bitten by him can be controlled through a trance state. The beast is capable of wielding both the arcane powers of magic and that of alchemy as well, both being to him sciences which he works every day to perfect. No shadow does he cast nor can his reflection be seen in mirrors. He is human during the day, which indicates a lack of all the powers here mentioned. Garlic and Holy artifacts can also revert him to a purely human state, once again, this would strip him of his powers. It is not known if there is a way to bring this vampire to the point of True-Death. He himself has attempted all known ways of vanquishing a vampire upon himself or payed others to conduct the experiment, but yet he lives. Thus it could be said that even he knows of no way to end his own existence. Sunlight has no effect on him whatsoever. During the day he has power only at sunrise, sunset, and high noon. Running/living water prohibits his passage except at either extremes of the tides, being high or low, of his own volition, unless he be carried by some other force. The beast is incapable of entering a dwelling without being invited inside by one of the patrons of said dwelling. He has a certain amount of control of the weather within a certain distance of himself. Feeding causes him to gain the strength of those he has killed and to reverse the effects of time upon his physical body. He is immortal, but ages just the same. He suffers from the blood lust. Even in his more human form the mere sight of blood causes him to fly into a rage. Holy artifacts and garlic are the only thing that can assuage this fiery explosion of anger and hunger. He is equally confined to the "holy ground" from whence he came as was Dracula, but has done a better job of moving and hiding his sanctuaries around the world and has even designed a method of bringing it with him. Even so, these places of refuge can be made useless to him in several ways: they can be sterilized by the use of holy bread, bound shut by a wild rose, or rendered as death by the firing of a holy bullet into the coffin containing the dirt. Over the years he practiced with many different forms of weapons but never showed any particular skill in the areas of sword-play, archery, poleaxes, axes, martial arts, or most other forms of combat. He has, however, found a certain enjoyment from the bull-whip and/or firearms, with which he has attained a great amount of talent through practice and diligence. Although he still prefers the use of his own two hands in the most arcane method of fighting, namely overpowering and eviscerating. Stabbing with a knife is not so troublesome to him either.

Personality:Warm, kind, cheerful, compassionate, and everything else that totally denies the incredibly haunting looks. Of course, this is only the facade he wears so as not to appear like a completely homicidal, demonic being that belongs in the underworld. Just as his skin is pale on the outside with a slight healthy tinge on the inside, so his personality to the majority of the world is a loving nature that shows only a touch of the cold interior. Although, the truth of the matter is that both physically and mentally he is corrupt to the core. He is a scholar at heart, or whatever is left of that essential organ, and has a voracious appetite for knowledge. He is a good listener and a better reader. When his actual demeanor is brought to the surface, he is cold and cruel. His belief is that he may only eat the strong, for absorbing the power of a weak creature is more work than it is worth. Thus he actually makes very few other vampires and, as part of his experiments, has actually killed, or rather suspended for he can no more kill those he makes than he can himself, most of the abominations that he has spawned, leaving only a very few in his wake. He despises all life, both living and Un-Dead fit into this category from his point of view, this point of view does however exempt a very few beings in whom the vampire truly delights, though these are few and far between. He is capable of the full range of emotions that humans are susceptible to, but relies mostly on the darker emotions, logic, intelligence, and his most feral instincts. Portrayed through the attitude is a certain audacity and arrogance that come from both having lived for over two-thousand years and knowing that he is for all intents and purposes immortal. He is, of course, two parts sane and eight parts stark-raving mad, but like only the most deadly madmen he hides it behind the cloak of calm steel. Put simply, he comes off as congenial right before he relieves you of your internal organs.

Sample RP post:

Fog, thicker than Timothy had ever seen it seemed to have wrapped itself around the small town like an old woman wraps her shawl around herself tighter to escape the chill. The only difference was that a shawl is warm and dry, and the fog was very wet and cold. Although, trying to see through the mist was about like trying to peer through a doubled over, closely knit shawl, giving one only the most phantasmal glimpses of his surroundings.

Being thoroughly lost didn't help the mood already brought on by the lousy day he had had at the office, and Timothy was about ready to just plant himself on the nearest spot he found and wait for the fog to clear up, however long that might take. "It's just one of those disadvantages of living by the sea," he told himself, "These blasted weather changes. I wouldn't be surprised to find out the devil himself was responsible for this forecast." He stumbled on till he found himself at the stone wall of the town's cemetery.

"Of course," he continued his talking to himself as he read the brass plaque that hung by the gate, "I would end up in the most uplifting place in town just when I need it, and the weather being so welcoming too." However, the grounds keeper was a close, personal friend who just happened to live on the premises, so he pushed through the gate and called out into the muffling, low-flying cloud, "Harold! Are you about!" Because, of course, the man would have been able to hear him through the fog and the walls of his house and whatever ambient noise might be separating them.

As anyone who has been in a bad fog before will tell you, it is very easy to lose one's way, especially when one does not keep a careful eye on it, and, being not altogether the brightest bulb in the box, Timothy had not had the common sense to follow the wall to the cottage, which was always left unlocked, that he knew lied along it. This being mostly because he who tended it did not fear grave-robbers. This last fact could be attributed to his tendency to carry upon himself at any given moment, including his own wedding, no less than three firearms, two knives, and a pair of brass knuckles with the words "I love my Mamma" engraved in them. No, instead Timothy had wandered out into the graveyard where he found himself tripping over headstones and, cursing his bad fortune, he slowly lowered himself down while using the headstone as a back-rest.

The young businessman decided to take this time to lament over all the horrible things that had happened to him over the course of not only this day but the past month or so. Despite his miserable reflections, he had enough of his attention focused outward to notice the clouded surroundings grow darker. He cursed again and was about to get up when he saw suddenly, against the mist, a dark figure rise up from where it had apparently been kneeling, perhaps to pay homage to the dead...He was about to call out when the figure turned, and he saw something that froze his blood. Even through the mist, the shadow of a person had eyes that burned like fire. At first, poor Timothy thought he might be seeing things. "Maybe it's the lighthouse in the cove, and I'm just in the wrong spot," his mind was working rapidly to compensate for something he knew couldn't be happening, but the tombstone was still at his back, and the lighthouse was still in the harbor, miles away.

That fiery glare turned towards him, he couldn't help shivering. It was when the dark form began to approach that he nearly lost it, but then there was a small gap in the fog and he could see who it was who approached him. "Just a man," he thought to himself with an elongated sigh, "Just an ordinary, run-of-the-mill Jack." He walked forward laughing slightly in a nervous way, "I'm sorry, you just gave me a bad scare." The man came closer, so that now Timothy could see him rather well. He was tall, or at least seemed that way, and thin, and very pale. At first he had the most frightening look on his face, it was cold and hard, but then it melted away and he looked amiable enough. "For that I am most sorry, friend," the pale man's lips tightened from their already thin state to stretch slightly across his face. If Timothy didn't know any better, he would have thought that he could just see the tips of a pair of wickedly sharp canine teeth behind those lips, but a moment later the sensation was gone. "It's no problem," Timothy said, "Hey, could you help me out? I'm feeling kind of turned around in this fog," Timothy figured, "This guy doesn't look all that bad, and maybe he will, at least, give me a point in the right direction." "Of course, my friend, "The man pointed a long, thin, pale finger and, just as he lifted it, the fog parted to show the way to the gate.

Timothy nodded his thanks and quickly dashed off lest the fog once again close around his target. He might have wondered how it was that the fog had opened up for the man like that and probably would have chalked it down to nothing more than coincidence. That might have happened, if the man hadn't lowered his finger and the fog once again descended. Timothy fell flat on his face after tripping over what he thought was a low headstone. He came up a moment later spitting dirt only to find his root of passage blocked once again by the thick mist and he with no idea where to go.

Looking down out of that slight instinctive urging that humans seem to have for stupidity, he saw that what he had tripped over wasn't a grave marker, but the body of the very Grounds-keeper he had come to this accursed place to see. The sight of the cold dead body of his old friend Harold shocked him so badly that he turned, fully prepared to bolt in any direction that presented itself while screaming his lungs out, but there again were those burning lights, like lanterns, only this time, they were approaching him at a great speed.

Timothy yelled only once for help. If only poor Timothy had been able to make it home, the next morning he would have seen the missing persons report in the newspaper and his young wife in tears. He would have been able to witness the valiant rescue team that searched a whole week trying to find him. That same teem which returned, down-hearted, with not so much as a shred of clothing to console the grieving woman, but Timothy never saw anything again. His body lies in another person's grave where he was ever so gently laid out with hardly a mark on his body to indicate the sudden and violent way in which he died. he would never be found, nor would Harold who also rested in a nearby coffin that had once belonged to someone else. Not all the protection in the world could have saved Harold in those last moments, and Timothy would not be the last person who would regret the fact that Harold's weapons had not ended the beast that had given each of them their burial ceremonies.

ooc// I beg your utmost forgiveness for any mistakes that I might have made. I have tried my hardest to work out the kinks, but I know there are still some in there and probably a few things that I've forgotten. Hopefully, this shall suffice. Thank you for your time.

OSHI-
Ok.
Do I know you from elsewhere? I think I recognize this style... Kyzak from MG? Whom? Does the name 'Pencil Sketch', 'Copy'n'Paste' ring a bell to you?
Anyways, great work, man (?). You are very experienced in the domain of RPing. Very, very nice. Hope to see you soon.
(Oh, one thing- This is an amateur RP site. We really are of a novice level here. Don't go posting blocks of text because most users here won't even bother to read it. <.<)

ACCEPTED.

Thank you ever so much for the tip. I'm afraid the only memory that "Pencil Sketch" brings up is the bio that you wrote...well, that and my doodles. "Copy'n'Paste" is equally devoid of special meaning. I'm sorry. If you have seen me elsewhere I have been using the name whilaroo. For me, this callsign is somewhat universal. Again, thank for the tip and the welcome...

Ok... This suddenly makes me feel very small when it comes to RPing. Welcome to the site, in any case. Feel free to post anywhere you want to!

And what Ahrach said about the post length is true. It's great that you can RP like that, but a lot of people are just going to take on look and skip over it...

Shadow.

Hmm...It has been some time since someone has accused me of being to thorough...Thank you though, I shall attempt to limit myself to a more reasonable length for the majority of my posts. In all honesty, the sample post was more of an intro than a post...I was having wirters block in terms of simply jumping into the realm of rping with the character, so I felt it might be better to simply...emphasize the character's evil nature through a short story, if you will.

Ahrach, you in fact have seen his name before on the expansion forums, Toryn posted in his art topic a piece of artwork from Whilaroo.

and Whilaroo, I knew you were good but I had no idea that you were that good nice job.

Hm, that aside, thz BIO is great, but heck, this character is very powerful indeed.
You'll have to watch out or he'll get too godmodded, and I don't think we like that. But I guess garlic as a restriction is a pretty powerful counterattack.
Garlic breath.

That and in the daytime he is no more powerful than a human. This fact applies even to the extent that he can be killed during the day. Unless killed properly, though, he will resurrect come sundown. So, yah, he's pretty powerful and I know I'll have trouble keeping him within the bounds of fair play, but where would the challenge be if it wasn't so.

Besides that, how many villains are there one this sight so far? I'll have to go through and look up all the characters of an evil nature, but I plan this character to be an outright antagonist.

Imagine it, though, I can have this guy die almost just about whenever I want, and then just bring him back. Okay, so maybe that's a little too powerful, but it's so much fun at the same time.

whilaroo wrote:

That and in the daytime he is no more powerful than a human. This fact applies even to the extent that he can be killed during the day. Unless killed properly, though, he will resurrect come sundown. So, yah, he's pretty powerful and I know I'll have trouble keeping him within the bounds of fair play, but where would the challenge be if it wasn't so.

Besides that, how many villains are there one this sight so far? I'll have to go through and look up all the characters of an evil nature, but I plan this character to be an outright antagonist.

Imagine it, though, I can have this guy die almost just about whenever I want, and then just bring him back. Okay, so maybe that's a little too powerful, but it's so much fun at the same time.

Spelling fail. Now I get what you meant earlier... Site, please.
Hmm...
All the characters who are currently played as and are evil are:
Raven (RothMercian) .
Sither (Ahrach Lusari) .

And... Uh. I was thinking one of my characters that is currently of a different alignment to become evil (BUT THOU SHALL NOT KNOW THEE. So don't even think about asking whom it is.)

Once again, please excuse the mistakes. In this case I had the pressure of time upon me and was unable to review my post before I had to rush out the door.

Groveling aside, thank you for the information. Raven is, incidently, marked as neutral. Sither sounds closer to evil, but that's a personal opinion.

Comparatively, there are a very small number of badguys on this SITE, and those marked neutral tend to have a certain bent towards the good side of the force, as ite were, Raven being the only exception that has been brought to mine own attention.

I do hope no one takes issue to me introducing myself as an enemy of all beings both living and dead.

Nah, it's OK. Sither was my first character, and he came out evil. I think Raven was like that too, and she just got worse...
And, anyways, evil people are sooooooooo much cooler than good people. That's why I take neutral. An exception is Vladimir Thomas James Troy, who wouldn't be the same if he was neutral or evil. He's only awesome when he's good. (That sounded wrong for no apparent reason, but I'm just too lazy to edit that and this out.)

Explanation for the odd clothing and the reason for the new story arc:

In the early eighteenth century Diaes's practices brought him to England. Originally he had meant to stay there only a short time, it was unwise to stay anywhere for too long, but during the course of his time as a student of science among the great tutors at the higher universities of the day he met a young woman. Diaes had always been a being focused completely on learning, but for the first time in all the life that he could remember, emotions actually stirred within him. It was not the lust or hunger of a vampire for its prey, but the desire of one human for another. So strong was this attraction that simply the presence of the girl could satisfy him. She was a member of a strongly catholic family, a bane to a vampire if ever there was one, but for her the Creature of the Night changed himself. About his neck he tied a small cross that she gave him, three nails that were tied in the form of a crucifix. He kept in his pocket a clove of garlic on which he would nibble occasionally. The effect was that he would become so sick that he wouldn't, that he couldn't, feel the blood lust. He established himself, gave himself a name, found a job doing manual labor during the day. They became close, very close. Together they made a solemn oath before an alter to God that they would forever cherish one another. Married... The beast had found his own beauty, and he loved her more than anything else. For her, his own life was forfeit.

She was a sickly girl. Her skin was pale, her body was thin and frail, she never really left the house, but she had an uncanny intelligence about her. Just to look at her you could tell she was smart. Not many would have called her even so much as good looking, and she was neither handy around the house nor even healthy enough to go out and about, but for all this Diaes found her more beautiful than all the women on the face of the earth. Looking at the pair with the eyes of a layman, a person would probably come to the simple conclusion that the couple were queer, but using the eyes of a member of the ancient brotherhood that call themselves the 'Hunters' you would know that there was a vampire somewhere in the equation. The Hunter in question watched for some time the workings of the two people and came to a simple conclusion: "The man went out to work during the day, but he looked terribly drained. Thus, the female who is 'supposedly' of a sickly constitution must be the vampire controlling the man to do her bidding. The man, an innocent still, must be set free." So it was that one day when Diaes was away at work that the Hunter struck. When the true vampire arrived home that night, he found a body lying on the floor in a pool of blood. A stake was run through the heart of his beloved, she was long dead...

Tirelessly, Diaes looked for the culprit who had just vanished. There was never any trace, and unable to find the man Diaes could not exact the revenge that he so needed. He would never find the Hunter and that would reek havoc on his mind for every moment of his existence. To this day, Diaes still wears the same outfit that he had on at the funeral...

Could she have been right? Could there be a heaven where his heart's keeper might still live? Could Diaes somehow still have eternity with his love? But how could a creature born in the power of the 'Fallen' ever reach heaven? So it was that the creature set out to reverse the self-same curse that he had placed on himself. It has led him all across the globe, but now the most promising clue has turned up: a diary. The diary was written long ago by the mind of a demon and the hand of a human. Yet, it could not be opened for the spell of binding that seals the pages. The words are hidden by the blood of the Vlaskie line and there are only so few of them left...

ooc// I may add to this at a later date, recording future plot as it happens or has already happened, but since anything beyond this point at current could be 'spoilers' to certain persons, I shall not include any more at this time...

you know i thought id have to force my self to finish this but once i started i found it realy instesting. plus i knew 9/10 of th info but still very good!