Honor: Regular Name: Varite Schattenblitz Age: 24 Gender: Male Race: Northern Civilian Place of Origin: Hyrule Castle Town PWC: 2/5/1 Treasures: Rupee Riches (+50), Magic Proficiency (+50) Dark Affinity (-35), Vampiric Touch (-30), Corruption (-45), Arcane Bolt (-20) Miasma (-20), Residence (-50). Height: Varite is almost frighteningly tall at 6'8", towering over most people he meets. Weight: As gaunt as he is, Varite weighs in at 220 pounds, adding to the considerable presence he already exhibits. Equipment: Varite decks himself in black armoured and bladed gauntlets emblazoned with his family crest, three bolts of lightning at 120 degree angles centring in a shadowed triforce bordered in gold on the palms. His embroidered silk shirt is as dark as silk could possibly be, and his leggings are made of black satin, the hems reaching perfectly to the tops of his soft black-leather boots. He also carries an athame in the shape of a lightning bolt, marked with his crest on the pommel, carried in a hidden sheath inside the left side of his silk shirt. When he wishes to hide his true face, he wears a nondescript brown linen cloak, hiding everything but his height in it's overlarge folds. Appearance: Varite cuts a striking figure. Very thin, and incredibly gaunt-looking, sharp chin and very pronounced cheekbones, his clothes are tailor-made to make his form as fearful as possible. Not that he needs it, with his face marked with a menacing void-black, bone-white, and pure gold skull on his left cheek, right cheek, and forehead respectively, each subtly shifting as he moves or speaks, mimicking his facial movements with an eerily exact movement. His violet eyes occasionally burn with a spark of cruelty and madness, especially when he sees another in pain. His raven-black hair, perfect with not a hair out of place, would be dazzlingly handsome on any other man, but the malevolence radiating from the skulls on his face draw the eyes away. When wearing his brown cloak, people see nothing but the tall, hooded figure and his sharp chin poking out from the shadows of his cowl. Personality: Varite is cruel and cannot hide his delight at other's pain, but whether these traits are caused by the family "blessing" or simply his own personality is unknown. What is obvious is the effect of his family's disregard had on him. He constantly strives to dominate others, whether intellectually, by force or by magic, he doesn't care. He needs to be the best, and on the rare occasion he fails to achieve his aim, he strenuously plans and trains for the next encounter with his instantly-made foe, plotting their downfall with malicious glee. He distances himself from emotional contact, all the company he needs coming from the three skulls marking his face. Residence: Varite lives in a mansion near the centre of Hyrule castle town, his house as bright and beautiful as Varite is malevolent. With a large kitchen, a copious dining hall, servant's quarters, seven bedrooms and several extravagant bathrooms, The land, situated next to the river running through town, also includes a small cemetery plot, where the bodies of the servants are buried, and a tomb where the family's remains lie. In the centre of the tomb lies the coffin of the original Schattenblitz, Harold. It's crest is slightly off-kilter, and when righted, opens a small hidden doorway in an alcove. Behind that alcove is a dark, dank room, filled with nothing but spiderwebs, the corpses of dead insects, and the box. The box where Varite found himself. Pet: … While he'd look more haunting with a raven or crow perched on his shoulder, he'd torture an animal to death before making it his pet. Backstory: The second son of the ancient Schattenblitz family, Varite never had the deft social manoeuvres of his elder brother Elias, nor the physical prowess of his younger brother Darren. This, of course, labelled him as failure in the Schattenblitz family, which was so immersed in the politics of the city there was no time for the expansion of Varite's talents. It did not matter that he had greatest proficiency with magic and the mental arts the family had seen in three generations. It did not matter that he had figured out how to shoot lightning from his fingers before his brother Darren could even speak. It did not matter that by the time he was thirteen, he could best any of his tutors in chess. He was always demeaned, overlooked, his brothers the "pride and glory" of the family. Varite grew sullen, barely exiting from his room, and even then only going to the library to select or return books. His teenage body gangly and much too tall, Varite stayed skinny and pale even into his adulthood, his lack of interaction with others causing strange habits to develop, such as an alarmingly strict sense of neatness. His brother Elias had found himself a wife, securing the family's continuance, and Darren was well on his way to securing himself a position as a captain of the City Guard, even as his father bemoaned that his middling son seemed to have more of an interest in the men of the guard than the ladies of the night. During one particularly raucous dinner party, where once again his father made many jokes on the subject of his middling son's sexuality, Varite decided to go down to the family tomb to study, his mind enraptured by Edgar Mortuai's Treaties on the Dichotomies of Magic. Drawn to how Edgar described the powers of the dark as a necessary counterpoint to light, and how Edgar believed that the struggle between good and evil fuelled the powers of the gods, Varite didn't notice as he made his way to the bottom level of the crypt. His absent-minded turning of the crest was just his habit playing up until the door opened in front of him. Varite had never been told about the room in the crypt, nor did he think that his father or brothers ever knew about it. The only times any of his family went in there was when his father visited his deceased wife on the anniversary of her death, and even then the "visits" only lasted a few minutes at best. He stepped slowly inside, curious at this never-before seen private room. Dusty cobwebs clung to Varite's face, which he angrily brushed away, eager to see the no-doubt glorious treasures awaiting him. Instead, he saw a somewhat battered black deck wood box emblazoned with the family crest on a small bluestone pedestal, stark in contrast with the marble tomb surrounding it. Varite had barely touched the lid of the box, his book fallen at his side when it sprang open, revealing three small orbs, one black, one off-white, and one a dirty gold. Reaching his hand inside, he received a shock when his fingertips brushed them. Varite fell to the floor, three dots adorning his forehead and cheeks. What seemed to Varite like seconds later, but by the positioning of the moon was several hours, Varite exited the crypt, a massive headache making his only thought that of getting back to bed and resting. Quietly opening the back door, creeping back to his room, a loud thump made Varite spin around. Darren was sitting in an oaken chair next to a small cabinet, a tankard of what smelled like mead half-drunk in his left hand. Darren stood up, and began to speak, his breath smelling similar, but much worse than the alcohol he had quite obviously been drinking copiously. "You're back. Father-" Darren took a swig from his mug, draining or spilling what was left into his gullet and onto his jerkin, then continued sarcastically. "Father was most worried when you didn't return at midnight. Where ever have you been?" A sneer creeped across his face. Varite opened his mouth to reply, but was cut off by Darren starting up again. "Honestly, brother, it's not enough that you do no work around here, that all you do is study books in that stupid library of yours, but you also have the nerve to go around prancing about the house in the early hours of the morning while the rest of us are trying desperately to sleep of the effect of this so-called 'accursed' drink." Darren's sneer turned into a snarl. "It's not enough that you don't do anything all day, then refuse to rock up to the party for our stupid brother's stupid wife, which we were all supposed to attend." Darren's snarl turned back into a sneer as he drew his sword, laughing a little at Varite's look of shock and fear. "See, you little weakling? I'm your younger brother, and I still know more about fighting than you do. What good are you to your family?" Darren took a swing at Varite, barely missing, cutting the plaster beside the mirror hanging on the wall. "Why shouldn't I just kill you now, and say I thought you were an intruder?" Darren suddenly pulled his arm back, a deadly light in his eyes, his movements now much more controlled and purposeful than they had been a moment ago. "I think I'll end you now." Varite, shocked, frightened, and acting entirely out of instinct, released the only spell he had ever learned. An arcane bolt of pure energy shot straight from Varite's palm into Darren's midriff. Electrocuted, Varite's younger brother fell to the floor, his stomach emptying itself into his throat. Varite stood by, shocked as his brother slowly choked to death on his own vomit. A stinging pain ran through his left cheek as his headache worsened, and he stumbled into the nearest room, that of his brother Elias and his newly-wed bride. Feeling somewhat giddy, and incredibly nauseous, Varite shuffled over to the side of the bed, looking with undisguised enmity at the face of his blissfully sleeping brother. He opened his mouth, about to yell in his brother's face in a petty act of spite when out flooded a wave of purple-ish gas. Instantly Elias and his wife looked troubled, tossing and turning in their sleep. As the gas continued to flow, long past the time Varite would have normally needed to take a breath, the movement of the couple slowed and ceased, the look on their faces that of terror and torment, their breathing stopped. The headache began to fade but the pain in his cheek intensified as it was mirrored on his right, the sting now terrible. And yet… Varite felt elated. Somehow, he had killed two of his brothers, those talented fools, without even marking them. He had obviously obtained one of the spells detailed in Edgar's book, "Miasma". He had never felt this alive, this… powerful. And his father was next. Varite strode purposefully but silently up to Lord Schattenblitz' room, opening the door without a creak. This… This was going to be ironic. Varite paced to the side of his father's bed, then held his father's jaw, locking his own lips to that of the man he had despised for the past fifteen years, if not longer. He felt his father struggle as Varite attempted to summon up the gas once more, but this time the flow felt reversed. The headache cleared entirely as the crack in Varite's skull from his fall in the crypt began to mend itself. Weakened already by age, Lord Schattenblitz closed his eyes and died as his brain haemorrhaged. Feeling stronger than ever, and with newly-aquired wealth and mystical power, Varite's pain became a temporary trifecta, then faded as the dots on his face resolved themselves into the three skulls of the Schattenblitz blessing: Power grasped from the black void, courage stolen from the bone-white face of death itself, and the golden gift of wisdom. Varite had found his calling. Antithesis of Light.
I wish I could shoot lightning from my fingertips as a toddler. But no really, the only problem is that, according to the Character Creation thread, "These rupees (from Rupee Riches) cannot be used to purchase treasures at creation, however." Despite that, the extra rupees were pretty much just used for the mansion (which, even by the Residence description, would have been borderline common-tier), so I'll waiver that. Rewriting the entire character for something like that seems silly. Accepted.
:P Did not notice that. I really need to look at these things more closely. Thank you very much for all that waiver-ing and such, as well as accepting the character. :D
