Post by lovelylunatic on Aug 23, 2011 18:47:46 GMT -5
Name: Drust Sechlainn
Gender: Male
Age: 662
Appearance of Age : 18
General Appearance: Drust has dark, wavy shoulder length red hair, hanging in a shaggy bang over his forehead and occasionally his eyes; a deeper, darker than emerald green. Standing at 5'6, he wears generally dated clothing— as in his opinion the clothing of current is far to boring. His dress often consists of medieval to Renaissance period upper class attire, or a simple long sleeved tunic over a basic pant. His face is rather youthful, boyish and soft looking, looking mildly effeminate. He has two prevalent scars, a cross burn on his neck and on his tongue, both of which he is indifferent to. He often wears either hearty lace up boots, or simply goes barefoot, the latter of which he prefers when fighting.
Personality: Drust is rather quiet, polite, and whimsical, generally not getting into arguments as he does see a meaning to them. He doesn't like to take sides, and prefers observing everything unfold in front of him as if it were a play for his amusement. He tends to even assist the enemy, were it to make for a better playing field. While in the short term he is chivalrous, he no longer cares about other people in the long term. Drust has many quirks, like talking to himself, waltzing with an invisible partner (or occasionally his dead prey), singing in dead languages when no one is around, or showing up behind people when they least expect it. Drust tends to view death as the most beautiful part of life, often thinking non-sadistically of the most fitting death for a certain person before he kills them. He speaks in flowery language, and tend to subconsciously flatter, and always, ALWAYS speaks the truth, though he often phrases it oddly. Drust doesn't like to see people cry, however, even those who he intended to eat. It makes him rather sad, and he does hate to cause that sort of pain. Occasionally, he'd even kill someone so that they can't be sad anymore.
Race: Vampire
Biography/ Prequel to Character: Drust was born during the medieval era, the son of a street performer. He lived in the streets, singing for bread, which he got a good fifty percent of the time. His mother, a gypsy, died in childbirth, and his father died when he was eight of an infected cut. Filthy and alone, he was a quiet, slightly inferior feeling child, god fearing and honest. When he was around 17 years old, the black death struck the British isles, and everything and one started dying. The end of the world, they said. God's fury, they said. Drust fully expected to die. However, when he found a beautiful little girl in the streets, a girl who looked like she had never been hungry before, starving, he offered his piece of bread to her. He would be taken by the plague any day, and the corpses piled higher and higher, so a piece of bread for a little girl would be a good reason to sleep hungry for the night. The next morning, when he asked the girl's name, she entitled herself Alice of Blair, daughter of Earl Benedict of Blair. The girl promised him a favor in return, but Drust, who was simply honored with the opportunity of assisting such a girl, made no request. When her family collected her, the last thing she said to Drust was her question of a favor. Drust, who had a growing black spot on his right ring finger, asked for her blessing to survive. She simple smiled.
Nine days later, the all his fingers on both hands were black. And Drust came to the realization that he really was going to die. He prayed that he'd be spared, and cried as the infection spread. He was afraid of death. He was afraid of hell.
Walking home from the cathedral, he head a voice behind him.
“Drusty, I've come to return your favor.”
The voice was high and sweet, and vaguely familiar, and he turned slowly to face the speaker. Standing before him was a little girl with golden curls, smiling and waving her hand. She looked...like Alice. Where they related? She was the most beautiful child he had ever viewed, like an angel. Maybe...maybe she was an angel. Was it time for him to die? He called out to the angel, asking her this very question, and the little girl laughed in response.
“Yes. But the best part is after death.”
Alice was his everything. He served her as if she was his angel. She WAS his angel. Golden, fair, unchanging and perfect. He simply adored her, stealing her the greatest things, dolls and dresses and jewels. He'd sing for her and dance for her, making daisy chains and waltzing in the streets. From the day she changed him, and for 142 years it was so. But then came the Spanish Inquisition.
The Inquisitioners, while ignorant to vampires, treated the like as if they were demons. Drust and Alice too were ignorant. Being arrogant in their abilities, they openly ventured into the arms on the Inquisitioners. The torture that followed was horrific beyond comparison. The questioning consisted of repeated yelling at how it was they came to earth, and whether or not they were disciples of Satan. Drust came off easy, with a lead cross placed on his tongue while his lips were sown shut. Alice, however, was forced to drink a gallon of holy water.
It took two hundred years for Drust to regain his personality. In that time he was barely more than animal, destroying everyone and everything in his sight. Anything in his path would end up a smear against the walls. However, he slowly twisted into something new, no longer that same devoted companion of a little dead girl, became truly a being of his own.
And that, would be the Drust one would see today.
Gender: Male
Age: 662
Appearance of Age : 18
General Appearance: Drust has dark, wavy shoulder length red hair, hanging in a shaggy bang over his forehead and occasionally his eyes; a deeper, darker than emerald green. Standing at 5'6, he wears generally dated clothing— as in his opinion the clothing of current is far to boring. His dress often consists of medieval to Renaissance period upper class attire, or a simple long sleeved tunic over a basic pant. His face is rather youthful, boyish and soft looking, looking mildly effeminate. He has two prevalent scars, a cross burn on his neck and on his tongue, both of which he is indifferent to. He often wears either hearty lace up boots, or simply goes barefoot, the latter of which he prefers when fighting.
Personality: Drust is rather quiet, polite, and whimsical, generally not getting into arguments as he does see a meaning to them. He doesn't like to take sides, and prefers observing everything unfold in front of him as if it were a play for his amusement. He tends to even assist the enemy, were it to make for a better playing field. While in the short term he is chivalrous, he no longer cares about other people in the long term. Drust has many quirks, like talking to himself, waltzing with an invisible partner (or occasionally his dead prey), singing in dead languages when no one is around, or showing up behind people when they least expect it. Drust tends to view death as the most beautiful part of life, often thinking non-sadistically of the most fitting death for a certain person before he kills them. He speaks in flowery language, and tend to subconsciously flatter, and always, ALWAYS speaks the truth, though he often phrases it oddly. Drust doesn't like to see people cry, however, even those who he intended to eat. It makes him rather sad, and he does hate to cause that sort of pain. Occasionally, he'd even kill someone so that they can't be sad anymore.
Race: Vampire
Biography/ Prequel to Character: Drust was born during the medieval era, the son of a street performer. He lived in the streets, singing for bread, which he got a good fifty percent of the time. His mother, a gypsy, died in childbirth, and his father died when he was eight of an infected cut. Filthy and alone, he was a quiet, slightly inferior feeling child, god fearing and honest. When he was around 17 years old, the black death struck the British isles, and everything and one started dying. The end of the world, they said. God's fury, they said. Drust fully expected to die. However, when he found a beautiful little girl in the streets, a girl who looked like she had never been hungry before, starving, he offered his piece of bread to her. He would be taken by the plague any day, and the corpses piled higher and higher, so a piece of bread for a little girl would be a good reason to sleep hungry for the night. The next morning, when he asked the girl's name, she entitled herself Alice of Blair, daughter of Earl Benedict of Blair. The girl promised him a favor in return, but Drust, who was simply honored with the opportunity of assisting such a girl, made no request. When her family collected her, the last thing she said to Drust was her question of a favor. Drust, who had a growing black spot on his right ring finger, asked for her blessing to survive. She simple smiled.
Nine days later, the all his fingers on both hands were black. And Drust came to the realization that he really was going to die. He prayed that he'd be spared, and cried as the infection spread. He was afraid of death. He was afraid of hell.
Walking home from the cathedral, he head a voice behind him.
“Drusty, I've come to return your favor.”
The voice was high and sweet, and vaguely familiar, and he turned slowly to face the speaker. Standing before him was a little girl with golden curls, smiling and waving her hand. She looked...like Alice. Where they related? She was the most beautiful child he had ever viewed, like an angel. Maybe...maybe she was an angel. Was it time for him to die? He called out to the angel, asking her this very question, and the little girl laughed in response.
“Yes. But the best part is after death.”
Alice was his everything. He served her as if she was his angel. She WAS his angel. Golden, fair, unchanging and perfect. He simply adored her, stealing her the greatest things, dolls and dresses and jewels. He'd sing for her and dance for her, making daisy chains and waltzing in the streets. From the day she changed him, and for 142 years it was so. But then came the Spanish Inquisition.
The Inquisitioners, while ignorant to vampires, treated the like as if they were demons. Drust and Alice too were ignorant. Being arrogant in their abilities, they openly ventured into the arms on the Inquisitioners. The torture that followed was horrific beyond comparison. The questioning consisted of repeated yelling at how it was they came to earth, and whether or not they were disciples of Satan. Drust came off easy, with a lead cross placed on his tongue while his lips were sown shut. Alice, however, was forced to drink a gallon of holy water.
It took two hundred years for Drust to regain his personality. In that time he was barely more than animal, destroying everyone and everything in his sight. Anything in his path would end up a smear against the walls. However, he slowly twisted into something new, no longer that same devoted companion of a little dead girl, became truly a being of his own.
And that, would be the Drust one would see today.
