Post by Damien Black on Aug 18, 2011 14:22:04 GMT -5
About You:
Your Name: Bella
Your Age: Above 16 below 20
How long have you been Roleplaying? 8 years
How did you find us? PBS
Did you read the rules? Yes
About Your Character:
Character's Name: Damien Black
Classification: Male Confessor
Powers/Abilities:
• Con Dor
• The power to confess people
• The ability to detect who is telling the truth
Weapon of Choice:
• Saber Claws - Twin Blades - CLICK FOR PIC
• Twin Daggers - CLICK FOR PIC
• Due to his upbringing, Damien is skilled in the use of most weapons.
Strengths
- Intelligent: calculative, strategic, clever, photographic memory
- Physical Body: fast reflexes, muscular, well trained
- Fighting: whether with weapons or his hands
Weaknesses
- Can't control his lust for blood
- Selfish
- Impulsive
Appearance:
Picture:
CLICK
Hair Color: Dark Brown
Eye Color: Steel Blue
Skin Tone: Lightly tanned
Clothing: Anything easy to move and fight in. Plain colors (blacks and browns). A pair of worn black boots.
Height: 6'1
Body Type: Muscular, defined, although not bulky
Personality: Damien is the definition of dark. Creatures of all sorts fall victim to the male's torments, as he enjoys exacting entertainment from their pain and humiliation. He's sadistic, cruel, and cold. He lacks any sort of a conscience, leading him to be extremely logical and calculative. Emotions don't' get in the way, less it be a fit of anger, which is easily invoked. He has a hard time reigning in his temper, which builds on his already impulsive and active nature, leading to often times violent and destructive episodes.
Behind his solid mask of fear-instilling fury, lies a somewhat insecure young boy. Damien feels the need to control things in order to ensure they don't rise above him. He wants to be number one, on top, dominate. He wants to be the winner, and have everyone else the loser. His father raised him with the notion of elitism, demanding the best from him at every step in his life. Falling short of expectations is not something that was tolerated growing up, resulting in a very stubborn, headstrong, persistent young male who refused to lose, and would do anything necessary to ensure that he didn't.
The male's lighter qualities include his charismatic social demeanor. People flock naturally to him, drawn in by his aura of confidence and seduction. He has no respect for women, and treats them like he does everything else he deems below him: as if they belong to him. Aside for women, respect runs deep in the male's veins. For his father, for the more powerful, intelligent, and experienced around him. But even that is a tempered respect, and it must be earned. For each of Damien's relationship with someone begins with him assuming himself to be the better.
Alongside this comes Damien's natural intelligence. Most of it is in thanks to his photographic memory, but he also possesses natural strategic intelligence and raw power. He puts them all to perfectly evil use, of course.
History: Damien was born to Varzen and Angelina Black. Varzen - a general in Rhal's army - of course had been confessed by his lover, and unwillingly so. Serving as confessor to a remote part of the midlands, when Angelina discovered her child was a boy and not a girl, there was no one around to force her into abiding by the sacred ways. She was supposed to drown him, to put an end to any possible evil. But she couldn't do it, and so she didn't.
When Damien was five, his mother was killed by D'haran soldiers. Freed from his enchantment, Varzen sought his son, and took him under his care. His plan was simple: to train the boy for Rhal's use. When he was old enough he would present himself and his son to the ruler, and he surely would be rewarded beyond imagine.
And so his father became harsher with him. He didn't tolerate failure or disrespect, and in two separate incidents ended up permanently scarring his son as a means of teaching him a lesson. A white line depicts a long ago slash from his right shoulder to his left hip. Beneath the sullen colors of his raven tattoo (a dark purplish-black tribal raven tattoo that covers the above mentioned scar, although the scar is still somewhat visible beneath it) there lies the remnants of a terrible burn, still visible up close.
From a young age, Damien's photographic memory was put to use. His father filled him with knowledge, and he absorbed it. He learned to use many different kinds of weapons, but found his favorite to be what was natural for a confessor: a pair of twin blades.
Many people suffered at Damien's hands as he grew, until at last his father too fell victim. With him dead, the boy - now 18 - set out on his own.
RP Sample: This is a sample from the same character, but on an HP site. I'll rewrite one as this exact character if need be. But I like this post because it really shows his personality =P Ha
Damien knew Ash loved him. He completely understood why, too. He was extremely attractive, that was undeniable. He was powerful, and extremely knowledgeable. He was popular, and quite well endowed. Her father liked him - nay, favored him over her. He had everything, including her. And he used that love of her's against her, knowing full well that he could abuse it all he liked, and she wouldn't be going anywhere. That was probably the best part of their relationship. He could do whatever he wanted, say whatever he wanted, and she would always love him. She would never leave him. He was one hundred percent sure of that.
Damien stared, his cool blue eyes unblinking, a frown creasing his full lips. He seemed, for a moment, to be debating whether or not Ash actually just said that. Here he was, coming to her aid after rescuing her from a near-death fall, checking on her to see if she was alright, and she was insulting him? He watched the emotions spread across her face, smiling inwardly at the regret that quickly overcame the frustration, "I'm sure you didn't," he mused quietly, his gaze lifting to inspect the gathering crowd. He didn't like Ash getting his attention. That, and he didn't like people bugging in on his business.
"Lovely." That had better not interfere with his plans. He watched her rise, not extending a hand to help her. She provided him with an excuse for the event, "Of course." Whether he truly accepted her reasoning, or was merely pretending and storing the occurrence away in his memory was unclear. Either way, his attention left her.
His wand shifted in his hand, and he turned partially to face the majority of the gathering, "Move along," his smooth voice suggested, a slight, ever-present edge of seduction lacing his words. Yet beneath them, something sinister sat. It was evident enough to some that they began to drift away, casting wayward glances over their shoulders as they went. Those too stubborn, or too stupid, departed only when Damien's wand-armed hand began to rise, his lips slightly parted as if prepared to speak, "Good boy," he said to the last to leave, a smile of amusement lingering on his lips as he turned back to Ash.
He stepped forward, seizing her wrist as he did so, "Don't move." He ordered, slipping his wand into his pocket, and then the free hand beneath her upper arm. In one swift movement, he pushed it up and in, successfully relocating it with a loud pop.
