Post by general on Apr 6, 2010 11:06:10 GMT -5
Dagan D'Ardentoreth
A warning to the people,
The good and the evil,
This is war.
To the soldier, the civilian,
The martyr, the victim,
This is war.
It's the moment of truth, and the moment to lie,
The moment to live and the moment to die,
The moment to fight, the moment to fight
To fight, to fight, to fight!
Full Name: General Daganoran D'Artendorethias Meven
Nicknames: General, Dagan, 'Dragon,' half-breed, Exhilios (Exile)
Physical Age: Unknown; appears to be in his mid-30's.
Date of Birth: Unknown
Hometown: Hope's Fell, North Sector, Virinas
Current Residence: New Orleans
Occupation: Exiled General, career soldier, currently homeless
Relationship Status: Widower
Character Type: Would be descried as a Demon in this world.
Affiliations: Neutral, until he gets his bearings
Gender: Male
Hair: Currently a long, shaggy tangled mess of brown locks
Eyes: Mismatched blue and what would be grey, if not for the mottled scars around his right eye
Height: 6'5"
Weight: 265 lb of pure muscle, baby
Body Type: Towering over most people, Dagan has the build of a born soldier; chorded, solid muscle covers most of his body, and a multitude of scars cover the muscle.
Best Feature: His natural kindness
Worst Feature: DO NOT PROVOKE THE EXPLOSIVE DEMON!
Sexuality: Straight
Personal Style: Back home, his typical garb would be body armor, loose clothes and study boots, with a multitude of weapons attached to every bare part of his body. But, now that he's a resident of New Orleans...whatever he can get his hands on; mostly hand-me-down jeans and a button up shirt.
Face Claim: Gerard Butler
Abilities:
Magical: Thanks to his father's side of the family, Dagan has the very unnatural ability to control electricity. And we're not talking about the sissy crap that pours through lamps to let there be light, but rather the natural, combustable elements that react, explode and discharge observable heat...all of which occurs within his body. When angered or when he feels like making a spectacle of himself, concentration will ignite these electric- sometimes nuclear, if one REALLY starts to poke at him- particles, creating whip chords of electrical energy souring from his body to nearby objects. Or people, given his mood. He also has the ever-loved ability to lift things twice his size, and heal faster than the average human.
Non-Magical: Given that his world's been at war for as long as he'd had the ability to breathe on his own, Dagan is proficient at hand-to-hand combat and weaponry. Just hand him one of the Realm's .45's and give him a few minutes. He'll shoot a hole in your eye so fast, you won't even know you're dead yet.
Personality:
'Emotionally repressed' could be the only way to describe ex-General Dagan D'Ardentoreth. The epitome of a cliche military man, he isn’t comfortable around public displays of affection, has been known to bark instead of talk, and has an unnatural love of his ‘quiet time.’ He’s very rigid, very controlled and very, very serious when it comes to anything fight-related. He’s not exactly one of those he-man ‘women can’t fight’ soldiers, given that half of his unit, along with his commanding officer is female, but if one is judged lacking in his eyes, they will forever be protected. Given that, he has the tendency to judge quite quickly and quite harshly, as he’s used to calculating battle strategies.
That said; if you’re looking for a cuddly bear who’s always looking on the bright side of life? Please, for all that’s holy, look somewhere else. Dagan just might smack you until you cry.
Likes:
• Quiet
• War
• Being in charge
• Helping other people and knowing that his life means something
Dislikes:
• Being useless
• 'Relaxing'
• Being touched
• Weakness
Strengths:
• Is a hardened soldier
• Is a natural strategist
• Has a quick mind
• Is a born leader
Weaknesses:
• People in distress
• A fight with unfair odds
• Sweets
• The power that lies inside him
Mother: Healer Yama D'Ardentoreth Mezak (deceased)
Father: General Torin D'Ardentoreth Mezak (deceased)
Siblings: Roanann, Jazz, Beckar, Valen, Rizak, Mikel, Bronnin, Liza, Morok (all deceased)
Others:
Healer Lauret Malora, wife, deceased
Noren D'Ardentoreth, son, 5, deceased
Kala D'Ardentoreth, daughter, 8, deceased
Prince Thirin Moravia, Regent of Virinas, sent Dagan into exile
Bio:
As evident from the beasts that roam the Realm, there are worlds that run parallel to our own. Worlds of demons, vampires, cannibals, cavemen...and war.
The world of Virinas falls into this latter category. Most of the planet has been ravaged by the centuries long war that is slowly tearing the lands apart. How the fighting started has been long forgotten over the years, but it is thought that it began with the presence of a particular race known only as the Kirah.
Once upon a time, Virinas was a world like any other. Their society was advanced, basking in the sunlight of technologies that were continuously answering life's most mysterious questions. They were at the pinnacle of discovery, the peak of their power...and in a fortnight, lost everything. As a rule of thumb, the people of Virinas welcomed all races to their world. It was encouraged to open trade routes between realities and planes of existance, when they chanced to become open. So, it was quite expected for the people of the peaceful society to open their arms to the ghost-like beings that floated into their world. It wasn't until their leaders began to act differently and loose the weapons science had created that they began to question their decision.
For those living in the current year, the war has always been fought against the evil beings that swarmed into Virinas those centuries ago. Like a plague, the Kirah seem to favor war and chaos, causing the deaths of millions. They will not be reasoned with, cannot be trusted and will stop at nothing to destroy the once beautiful world of Verinas. The reason for the Kirah's animosity is as unknown as what caused the beginning of the war, but that really isn't something that a soldier worries about.
All they need to know is where to point and how many rounds they have in their weapon. And it is with this mindset that Dagan was introduced into the world.
Born to a General and a Healer, he was able to see both sides of his world; the pain of battle and the ability to recover and fight on. As per tradition for all children born into Verinas, by the time that Dagan was old enough to walk, he was shipped out to begin his soldier training. As the youngest of a brood of healers and soldiers, even at a young age, he did his best to prove his father and brothers proud. While his sisters went on to serve the army's Healer Core, Dagan was enrolled in a program that would guarantee that he would see the front lines by the time he was fourteen.
Yet, that would not be the first time that the young soldier would taste loss. When he was six years old, the village that his family lived in was attacked by a small batallion of Kirah, supposedly coming after his father, who had been granted leave to visit with his loved ones. It is still unknown why reinforcements did not arrive in time, but the small, sturdy village of Hope's Fell burned to the ground as the politicians in the Capital nearby debated on the war. His father, mother, brothers and sisters were tied to stakes in the middle of his house and burned alive, while he was forced to watch from a hiding place his eldest brother had coralled him into, before running back to the fight himself.
The smell of burning flesh coupled with the sounds of his family's screaming brought him running from the little ditch on the edge of the village. Evading enemy hands and half heartened gunshots, he attempted to put out the blazing fire, even when the screams died away. It was in this way, wracked with grief and anger, that he first showed signs of his unknown heritage.
With a roar not fit for a child, the nearby Kirah were blown to pieces, struck by the waves of energy that poured out of his body. Shortly after, he passed out from the strain of the blast, and the gathered Kirah spirited him away to a stronghold, determined to understand the source of his power.
For the next ten years, Dagan was held captive in a research facility owned and operated by the monsters that killed his family. They experimented on him, tortured him, used him as a guinnea pig their newly developed weapons and, when none of the strain seemed to kill him, decided to harness the power he had within him. According to the General, he doesn't remember much of these dark years, and what truly happened is unknown.
A week after he turned sixteen, the facility in which he was kept was attacked by the Verinas army, led by a man- the ruler of the last of the free races himself- intent on destroying the energy source powering most of the Kirah weaponry. Instead, the 'Great King Goliath' found a boy, who, as the records read, "looked up at him with an expression of such haughty disdain, that the King could do nothing but take him under his wing, if only to teach him some manners."
Rescued from the Kirah, Dagan was thrown back into the war, resuming his army training as an asset to the people of Verinas. Over the next few decades, he climbed through the ranks as easily as a knife through melting butter. His calculating mind and leadership abilities earning him the trust of his superiors, and the absolute dedication to his subordinates earned devotion from his men. He became High General of the Armies of Verinas during the reign of Goliath's son, Jacob, and together, they managed to push the Kirah back toward the place from whence they came.
But, as it is in all tragic stories, the war would not be won so easily.
Jacob's son, Thirin, was a weak, jealous man who resented his father's favoring the common soldier beneath him. When he grew up, the Prince silently vowed, he would take the throne and rule the armies himself, instead of relying on a simple halfbreed to do the work for him. And the mere fact that the King's most trusted advisor wasn't even human? Unacceptable! His confidence should be in his own flesh and blood!
So strong was his hatred for Dagan that, upon hearing the whispered rumors that the crown might be going to a certain soldier after Jacob's death, Thirin began to plan. How could he convince the politicians and the people that their beloved General was a monster? How could he make the legendary emotionless soldier lose his calm?
Why, by taking his loved ones, of course. The beautiful Healer Lauret, the General's loving wife, and the two brats, Noren and Kala. The only three people in the world that Dagan would rather die than see hurt.
It was just so easy to pull the remaining soldiers out of the village where they lived; to spread a rumor that the Kirah were going to attack the Capital, and leave the good General's family unprotected.
Dagan found his family three days after hearing the news of the attack on his village, lying dead in front of their home. They had been beaten, brutalized and dismembered, bodyparts littered across the front lawn. And, playing right into the Prince's hands, lost his legendary control, leaving the village and everything in a fifty mile radius in a burned husk. On the same day, Jacob was found dead in his chambers, and Thirin was made King.
Found guilty of treason and murder, Dagan was cast out of Verinas through a very coincidental tear in reality; Exhilios and stripped of his titles. Convinced that politics was the reason why he was exiled, he is doing his best to find another tear, one that leads back to his world, in order to join in the war once again. Until then, he resides in New Orleans; defrocked and a stranger in a strange land.
RP Sample:
The air was gritty; filled with smoke, the low rumble of cheers and curses, and the ever present misting of blood and sweat. The floor below his feet was covered in grime and blood, eternally marked with grooves from unhappy bullets and hidden knives. Crowds surrounded the high mesh fence that closed off a bedroom sized area, hooking dirty fingers through the similarly blood stained metal, lips pulled back as they screamed at the two fighters battling for their lives inside. Money was passed from hand to hand, and somewhere in the background, the low tinkle of glasses added to the cacophony, as the bartender poured a couple shots for the party in back.
A guy had to love the bohemian aura of The Underground, owned and operated by one of the world’s most notorious arms dealers, Dhamone ‘The Jackal’ Katilacuss.
The Underground never had the same location twice, forever moved around the old sewers and abandoned train stations that cocooned New York, and as usual, it sported a fight-to-the-death cage in the middle of the large, dusty room. Nickelback’s Burn It To The Ground blasted from speakers in the back, a fully stocked bar lined one dirty wall, and sitting in the corner, a beer bottle grasped in one hand, the Jackal himself watched the scene with an air of nonchalance. He was the big, bad wolf of the party, and from the space that everyone gave him, it was a reputation that no one was likely to challenge without a good half a bottle of stiff whiskey down their bellies.
Well…maybe no one but him, that is.
Reclining back on his elbows, a scary looking man made himself comfortable with his back to the scarred wood, an almost bored expression on his face. Dark, weathered skin was interrupted by the faint traces of stubble growing on his chin and cheeks, and equally disturbed by a pair of dark brown eyes focused on the interlocked pair battling it out in the middle of the room. Casually, he lifted an almost spent expanse of his cigarette to his lips, the hand sporting spidery scars; crisscrossing burn marks and old knife wounds- or were those claw marks? He could never remember- and took a deep drag. Dirty black hair fell in clumpy wisps around his face, and from the just-as-dirty black suit that he was wearing, he could probably have been mistaken as some hobo one of the other patrons had let in out of pity.
An assumption that would probably prove to be the unwary thinker’s last.
