Post by Jessie on Apr 7, 2012 20:53:08 GMT -5
NameMithos Elliel
GenderMale / Disclosed
Race‘Dark’ Elf
Age28
OccupationMercenary / Warlock
Home RegionLiath born; Kabal raised
AllegianceLiath
Weapon of ChoiceHe has a pair of steel daggers kept on him at all times, but he is heavily dependant on his magic, versus melee combat.
Gifted ElementDarkness // Shade Manipulation
Personality- Tyrant
While loyalty isn’t the best way to describe Mithos, he is very much the persona of a tyrant. He is self centered, in most, but not all cases, while holding up a stern front. He has no tolerance for ignorance or the lack of intelligence by other people, while the elvaan himself, is narrow minded.
- Stubborn
Along with a stern front for the proper definition of ‘calm’, the warlock is also known to be hardheaded, or stubborn. When his mind is set, it is what it is, and in no means does he allow himself to sidetrack. This also makes arguing with him almost a chore, while if there is evidence somewhere, he will hold his word until it cuts through.
- Manipulative
It is important to use your words wisely around this individual, as he also consumes a knack of toying with your words and the way they are ordered. Taking something as simple as a plea for help, moments later you will notice that you just stepped forth into a compromise that risked your own life. The elvaan is also nifty in the means of others guilty conscious.
- Hostile
Like his tyrant traits, Mithos can be easily angered, leading to that of verbal and/or physical violence. This is also a combination trait between his lack of control when it comes to his alter-ego, known as the madman, when his consciousness is overruled by that of his lust of destruction and power.
- Alter Ego
Formally known as the madman, Mithos possess an alter ego that even himself, is unaware of. While he plays off as a stronger man, believing he can take on anything, there is a deeper side to his personality that thrives on destruction and the pain of others, a twisted manipulation of his darker thoughts. When his hostility becomes top notch, it is often the trigger that leads him into this state, practically knocking out the consciousness that is Mithos, and awaking that of his true self.
- Dark Sense of Humor
To humor this humble Elf, is more of a trade between violence and sarcasm. While simple jokes are nothing more than an addition to annoyance, his humor is fluctuated by the means of others’ stupidity, pain, or even that of his own schemes that to a normal being, sound terrible or just plain wrong.
AppearanceTrademark of the elvaan genes, the warlock stands at 6’5”, weighing nearly 165lbs. Between his height and misguided weight, his body structure is not muscular built, but does carry a toned frame, the slender indents along his stomach indicating that he is fair of a six pack, but it isn’t anywhere near bulletproof.
Crimson orbs pollute the toned irises that complement that of silver, shoulder length locks, cut in such a way it is more rugged in appearance than straighten. All of this flowing on top of a tanned skin and lanky bones.
His casual wear is common of tailored rags and patches for shirts, while tighten slacks are his preference, especially when it comes to his occupational side of being a mercenary to the Kabal ranks. When on a job, if it consist of any details in battle, he properly gears himself with a bit more than just tailored excuses, and wears a chainmail vest, along with plated guards and leggings, with matching boots. Mithos is no dragon rider, but on duty he could surely fool one out of five.
HistoryIt all began with the city of Liath, to which an elvaan woman gave birth to such an innocent form, later known to be Mithos. It was the third cycle of the 781st year, and the sun was beating against the woodland of the genetic homeland. The delivery process was successful, and the woman who went by the name of Kurn Elliel, was gifted her baby boy, with a warning by the Shaman, “He will grow to sleep in torment, and a life of regrets. Teach him in his youth self control, and we may be given the blessing of Aedai.”
At first, Kurn did not know how to take the elders’ words, a sense of worry clouding her confidence in raising a child without a father. That is, due to the mishap of struggles and war games. Her mate was killed during the second cycle, hunted by Kabal Warriors for being falsely accused of treason. It was a known fact that even with magic, time was unable to reverse. And the woman sought her heart out on finding the true criminal in the mess. But first, she had more important matters to attend - her pregnancy.
Five years passed by, Mithos now a tamed child attending school, learning about the history that laid beneath Aedai soil, and the gifts that all of the children possessed. It was in his genes that magic ran deeper than any other individual, compared to the elves, but this did not blind the effects of struggle. Unlike the others, Mithos had belonged to the handful of children who didn’t quite understand how the processed worked, nor was he delivered in his youth, his gifted element. Teacher after teacher, even that of elder mentors were sought out to aid the elf in his troubles, until they realized what had been the issue.
Dark Magic - it was one of the more complicated of elements to tame at such an early age. Not to mention, out of the ordinary, but not impossible. There had been cases in the past where children would possess an unusual element, but this was never found as a dilemma until their mid teens. He was still just a lad, a stranger to the laws of education and study.
Frustration and envy began to eat away at the elvaans’ core, every day returning back to the schools to see other children achieving their dreams, their occupational trial that would determine what their future would be. He would return home furious, not comprehending why he, to his knowledge, was not gifted like the others. Had it been because of his lack of a father? Perhaps his unusual eye color, compared to the more vibrant of the locals? Or had it just been the odds of lady luck? Needless to say, it didn’t make sense to him, and every morning to wake up, knowing... it was more of a chore, than existence.
Kurn was not as supportive as the mother she saw herself as. To her eyes, she was trying her best. Every day of her childs’ return, she would ask of his day, regardless of the same answers. She fed him his meals, bathed him, and put him to sleep, promising that the next sun would bring a better tomorrow. Though, this was the same routine that continued for the following three years, not a single change.
Eight years old didn’t seem like a lot, when compared to the average lifespan of an elf. However, it did develop his sense of understanding. Like that of elementary teachings, he still had minimal control over his gift. Darkness was more consumed of despair and hatred, than a simple resource such as the wind, fire, water, even that of the holy light to mend wounds and create a sense of joy to those around you. While the other kids had these gifts to manipulate, train, and form their structures around their own survival, Mithos remained vulnerable, cold, and alone.
It wasn’t until he had been provoked, that the elvaans’ true self, took a turn for the worse. It was an average day, the same routine of going to school, sitting through educational studies, recess, then back to the tables for more valuable techniques in the magic proportion. Though- the magical study was clocked in early.
Mithos had been minding his own business, as he always had. Seeking safety from that of a nearby tree that led into a thin woodland while the others played amongst each other and sport. Like always, he would simply sit there. Staring at the other children, taking note of their abilities, their gifts, their happiness. Until one individual decided to jump off the rails of routine, and make the day a bit more interesting.
“Hey, you!”
The elvaan boy looked up, narrowing his crimson stare as two other elf boys approached, cocky smirks upon their face.
“You’re that kid who doesn’t have an element, right?” the first boy cackled, cupping his hand to his side as he sparked a small flame.
“He has an element, stupid. He’s just too dumb to figure it out,” the other snapped, glaring at his comrade before dropping another smirk upon Mithos. Continuing to stare, he refused to speak, ignorance already at this age, makes its way to his disgust. “What, not gonna talk?” the boy continued, balling up his fist and sitting them against his hips.
“Hey, maybe hes’ too stupid to talk, too,” the first snickered, removing the flame from his palm.
“Looks like it.”
“Not only do you suck at magic, you can’t even talk! I bet your mommy doesn’t even talk to you anymore, since you can’t talk back!”
“She’d have better conversations with wood.”
The two elvaan males looked at each other, a thicken smile stretched across their cheeks as they both began to howl in laughter, Mithos still sitting in place, observing the two. While his mouth spat no emotion, his eyes were set directly upon the first boys’ neck. If he could just grip the bare flesh, teach him a lesson, even that of making it to where he couldn’t speak... That was it! With no hesitation, the silver maned boy stood, his lips still the same old, as his eyes narrowed at the set of bullies.
“Too stupid to speak?” the voice spoke lightly, almost innocently. “Too smart to care.” Stretching his arm forward, a breeze brushed against his cheek, the shade of the tree beginning to lift into that of a physical, translucent form. The set of boys’ eyes widen in horror, frozen in a state of fear and confusion. “One. I have an element,” Mithos continued, the visible shade stretching across and wrapping itself around one of the boys’ neck. “Two. I can speak just fine.” He began to close his palm gently, the pressure of the shade following the motion as air became subtle. “Three. My mother is too stupid to talk.” With that, he closed his grip, the manifestation of the shade gripping tightly at the fragile flesh of the bully, tears chalking up at the corner of his eyes.
“STOP! STOP IT! YOU’RE HURTING HIM!” the second one screamed, unable to comply any physical actions to put a halt to the madness. But Mithos didn’t care. In fact, he was enjoying it, a thin smile bracing his lips as he held his arm out. “STOP IT! HELP! ANYONE! HELP! HE’S GOING TO KILL HIM!” the boy continued to shriek, attention quickly grabbing the interest of the other children and teacher aides. Between tackling Mithos onto the ground to break his concentration, and that of the nameless boy being sent out to medical inspection, this was only just the beginning.
Ten years had gone by since the events at the school. Shortly after harassing the bully, Mithos was removed from schooling grounds due to being a hostile risk to the others. His mother took him in, assuring that everything had been an accident, and that she would teach him the ropes. However, the day never came, and over the progression of ages 8 to 18, he had trained himself in the company of vacant woodland, the unlimited supply of resources for what he required. Not only did he learn a trait he had the wrist for, throwing blades and quick movement such as daggers and short swords, but he became more familiar with his gift, bringing shadows to life.
At first, it was the simplicity of moving his arms in coordination, like puppetry. Then things became more solid... more powerful. Manipulated beast made from the very darkness of Aedai itself, carved into a physical form and power. This was his gift, a lore of destruction right at the base of his palm.
The trait of sneaking out at nightfall however, and taking care of his lacking mother, became more tedious than it was once before as the years progressed. Not to mention the eerie looks he would receive from locals when going to the markets for goods. It was time to leave this place. It was time he began fresh, with his own concept and rules, no one to hold him down or to say otherwise. He had heard rumors of a mainland city, located in the far North of Kabal. And from there, is what he had his mind set to. He would use his unique display of his gift at his own will, become a Mercenary, and start life anew. All of this, without a single farewell to his dear mother.
Another cycle took place over the generation, marking the fifth cycle of the 803rd year. Mithos was now at the age of 28, a fair known merc within Kabal walls, and lived in a small residence in the southeast portion of the City. It was but two years ago he received word of his mothers’ passing, leaving that of his birth parents both deceased. Though, it had affected him none, the news just another line in a paper. He had realized quickly that his leave of Liath was his best choice yet, and now he lived in a middle-state wealth, an occupation he adored, and not a single person to depend on, outside customers.
Other Characters:None.
