Post by winterwhim on Nov 28, 2005 9:46:04 GMT
General Stats
Name: Nazrael
Race: Ferial (Near-Human)
Gender: Male
Age: 55
Class: Samurai
Alignment: Lawful Good
Personal Stats
Body Build- Nazrael carries a strong frame. Heavy muscle lines his 6' frame.
Distinguishing Features: His shaven head shows the sprout of stark white hair, and his eyes match it perfectly. His hairline is receding. He has a white tattoo of a circle on his chest.
Clothes- Nazrael rarely wears a shirt, baring his strong frame and symbolic tattoo for all to see. His lower half is covered by a pair of baggy purple breeches, with a wide matching obi (belt). His hands and feet are both wrapped in tape, and his feet are covered by a pair of nondescript sandals.
Personality- Ferials are a warlike race, and are not particular to social activity. As such, Nazrael is often hesitant in social situations, afraid to offend others. Other times, he is completely brash, and slips into true Ferial personality. He speaks elegantly, with large words, but rarely speaking of any abstract concepts.
Battle Stats
Class Description- Ferials have a tradition in their society that is unpronouncable in Common tongue, but for the most part equates to a Samurai. Concepts of bushido, honor, and loyalty are guidelines to this katana-wielding warrior.
Armor- None
Weapons- Nazrael carries twin katanas, with sheathes not too particularly ornate.
Accessories- None
Strengths- Nazrael is amazingly fast, compared to a human, and physically strong.
Flaws- Nazrael is quick on the battlefield, both mentally and physically, but out of combat, he lacks for problem-solving skills, most of the time. He is also getting old, and is slowing down compared to most Ferials, though still far quicker than most humans.
Extra Abilities/Magic- Like all members of the Ferial race, Nazrael can gain very short glimpses of the immediate future, seconds away. As well, he can take short bursts of literally lightning-like speed, able to effectively teleport short distances. He must wait 10 seconds between each use of this speed. Seemingly a short time, it is actually forever to a Ferial.
Other Info
Element- Wind
Likes- Straightforwardness, Battle, Sparring, Formal Dance
Dislikes- Riddles, Puzzles, and Anything Confusing; Dishonesty, Sleeping, Wasting Time
Allies: None
Family: His parents and son are dead. His grandson is alive in their home dimension.
Custom Weapons
Name: Prime
Description: A seemingly bland katana, especially for all the work obviously put into it's creation.
Power: Prime is enchanted by the shaman of the ferials to cut deep, like the hand of a ghost, straight to the soul. Prime ignores all armor and protection of it's victims.
Name: Plague
Description: Also bland-looking, it doesn't even match Prime, suggesting they were not meant to work in tandem.
Power: Plague inflicts a quick-spreading virus through the struck body part of it's victims. This virus causes the infected area to heat intensely, to the point of literally boiling.
History
Nazrael was born into mediocrity in his home dimension of Winterwhim. The dimension has distant relations to the elemental plane of cold, thus the namesake, which carries true in the weather. He, like all members of Ferial society, was trained from birth for war in the name of his province, that of Satrius. He served loyally, and vigorously. When he graduated to captain, he was gifted with the sword known as Prime, by an old shaman lady, who had mysterious ties to the upper echelons of his military. Years later, he would defeat an enemy captain in battle, who willed his sword to the man who defeated him. This is how Nazrael acquired the sword plague.
Eventually, his marriage was arranged, as is traditional. It was a loveless relationship, baring one son, who later bore his own.
He killed his fair share of enemies, and eventually became a senior officer in the military, no longer riding the front lines, but rather commanding from the back. He never made it to warroom strategy, however, as thinking was never his strong point.
One fateful day, a figure appeared in the dusky sky over the battlefield on which Nazrael fought. He was the only one to notice it, and it lowered down to him. "A fine specimen you'll make," the figure said, grabbing the bewildered general, a whisking him away.
Apparently, the mysterious figure's spell went awry, because when Nazrael opened his eyes, she was nowhere to be found. He was in a different place entirely...
Name: Nazrael
Race: Ferial (Near-Human)
Gender: Male
Age: 55
Class: Samurai
Alignment: Lawful Good
Personal Stats
Body Build- Nazrael carries a strong frame. Heavy muscle lines his 6' frame.
Distinguishing Features: His shaven head shows the sprout of stark white hair, and his eyes match it perfectly. His hairline is receding. He has a white tattoo of a circle on his chest.
Clothes- Nazrael rarely wears a shirt, baring his strong frame and symbolic tattoo for all to see. His lower half is covered by a pair of baggy purple breeches, with a wide matching obi (belt). His hands and feet are both wrapped in tape, and his feet are covered by a pair of nondescript sandals.
Personality- Ferials are a warlike race, and are not particular to social activity. As such, Nazrael is often hesitant in social situations, afraid to offend others. Other times, he is completely brash, and slips into true Ferial personality. He speaks elegantly, with large words, but rarely speaking of any abstract concepts.
Battle Stats
Class Description- Ferials have a tradition in their society that is unpronouncable in Common tongue, but for the most part equates to a Samurai. Concepts of bushido, honor, and loyalty are guidelines to this katana-wielding warrior.
Armor- None
Weapons- Nazrael carries twin katanas, with sheathes not too particularly ornate.
Accessories- None
Strengths- Nazrael is amazingly fast, compared to a human, and physically strong.
Flaws- Nazrael is quick on the battlefield, both mentally and physically, but out of combat, he lacks for problem-solving skills, most of the time. He is also getting old, and is slowing down compared to most Ferials, though still far quicker than most humans.
Extra Abilities/Magic- Like all members of the Ferial race, Nazrael can gain very short glimpses of the immediate future, seconds away. As well, he can take short bursts of literally lightning-like speed, able to effectively teleport short distances. He must wait 10 seconds between each use of this speed. Seemingly a short time, it is actually forever to a Ferial.
Other Info
Element- Wind
Likes- Straightforwardness, Battle, Sparring, Formal Dance
Dislikes- Riddles, Puzzles, and Anything Confusing; Dishonesty, Sleeping, Wasting Time
Allies: None
Family: His parents and son are dead. His grandson is alive in their home dimension.
Custom Weapons
Name: Prime
Description: A seemingly bland katana, especially for all the work obviously put into it's creation.
Power: Prime is enchanted by the shaman of the ferials to cut deep, like the hand of a ghost, straight to the soul. Prime ignores all armor and protection of it's victims.
Name: Plague
Description: Also bland-looking, it doesn't even match Prime, suggesting they were not meant to work in tandem.
Power: Plague inflicts a quick-spreading virus through the struck body part of it's victims. This virus causes the infected area to heat intensely, to the point of literally boiling.
History
Nazrael was born into mediocrity in his home dimension of Winterwhim. The dimension has distant relations to the elemental plane of cold, thus the namesake, which carries true in the weather. He, like all members of Ferial society, was trained from birth for war in the name of his province, that of Satrius. He served loyally, and vigorously. When he graduated to captain, he was gifted with the sword known as Prime, by an old shaman lady, who had mysterious ties to the upper echelons of his military. Years later, he would defeat an enemy captain in battle, who willed his sword to the man who defeated him. This is how Nazrael acquired the sword plague.
Eventually, his marriage was arranged, as is traditional. It was a loveless relationship, baring one son, who later bore his own.
He killed his fair share of enemies, and eventually became a senior officer in the military, no longer riding the front lines, but rather commanding from the back. He never made it to warroom strategy, however, as thinking was never his strong point.
One fateful day, a figure appeared in the dusky sky over the battlefield on which Nazrael fought. He was the only one to notice it, and it lowered down to him. "A fine specimen you'll make," the figure said, grabbing the bewildered general, a whisking him away.
Apparently, the mysterious figure's spell went awry, because when Nazrael opened his eyes, she was nowhere to be found. He was in a different place entirely...
