Post by Javert on Jun 23, 2009 11:05:36 GMT -5
[/font][/font][/size][/size]Introducing…
TERYXAEL!
Please Allow Me To Introduce Myself…[/blockquote][/center]
Name: Teryxael Palewing the Silent; once known as Teryxael Goldwing the Younger, but that went downhill a few thousand years ago
Nicknames: Don't. Call. Him. Terry. It is not a good idea. (I, however, frequently refer to him as Xael, but that's not really smart, either.)
Age: 5,343
Gender: male
Where you stand?: ruler of the Fallen Lands
Play by:
TE Lombre, of whom I am inexplicably frightened of but also in love withNicknames: Don't. Call. Him. Terry. It is not a good idea. (I, however, frequently refer to him as Xael, but that's not really smart, either.)
Age: 5,343
Gender: male
Where you stand?: ruler of the Fallen Lands
Play by:
I'm a man of wealth and taste...
Appearance: Painful irony lies in the fact that the first thing onlookers note about Teryxael is his greatest burden. Even if, to a pair of eyes, he were nothing but a tall, skeletal silhouette in the distance, his wings would be immediately visible. Once golden and full, they remain a full ten feet in span, but the feathers are clipped and sparse, now, and a dusty-grey in hue like a fog-encased horizon in the early morning. No magic in the world can heal them, and so he unfurls them as proudly as he can, as if they were his crown—broken, shattered, rusted, but a crown nevertheless.
These wings, when furled, further enhance his already unnatural height of 6-feet-6 inches, and the total emaciation of his frame only serves to make him appear taller, as does the length of his dark hair, which falls far past his shoulders. Avion are slim, naturally, and many, many centuries of eating only when it was convenient to do so further thinned Teryxael, reducing him to a nearly cadaverous state. His bones, of course, are hollow, so, despite his imposing height, he is not physically strong and certainly does not appear to be so. His stature, however, and his rigid composure—always straight backed, always staring directly into the eyes of another—dispel any assumption of frailty.
No, not frail—frightening. The image of a skeleton extends also to his face. Long, diamond-shaped, skin like pale paper stretched across knife-like cheekbones, gaunt enough for shadows to gather in the hollow of his cheeks and below his eyes. His nose is small, narrow, delicately shaped, at odds with the angles of his visage, as is a round chin; his upper lip is thin but the lower is fuller, and both are prone to forming a perpetual suggestion of an infuriating—or perturbing—smile, like the grin of a death's head. ((HELLO GASTON LEROUX)) His eyes, set below crescent-shaped, dark brows, are not flaming red, as would be expected of an evil ruler, or the hollow caverns expected of a rotting skull, but are closer to the latter: small, wide-set, and a pure, untarnished gold, unblemished by pupils, simply molten irises surrounded by white. In the faces of his sister and mother, they were beautiful; in his face, they are unnatural, unnerving. He could be described as beautiful, for there is a definite androgyny to his features, blurring the lines between masculinity and femininity, lending him an ethereal note expected of angels, not demons.
And, like the angels immortalized in stained-glass windows, this face of Teryxael's plays canvas for no emotions. Perhaps the most unsettling thing about his appearance is that he rarely betrays any emotion whatsoever. His eyes do not cloud in anger, his brows do not furrow in concentration; he has no nervous habits or idiosyncrasies. His rare explosions of angers are sights to behold solely because his expression actually shifts, but, otherwise, he is perfectly collected and still. He stares. He smiles, slightly. He watches. He listens. He waits.Personality: (At least two or three paragraphs)
Likes: (At least five or six)
Dislikes: (At least five or six)
Dreams:
Fears: (At least three or four)
These wings, when furled, further enhance his already unnatural height of 6-feet-6 inches, and the total emaciation of his frame only serves to make him appear taller, as does the length of his dark hair, which falls far past his shoulders. Avion are slim, naturally, and many, many centuries of eating only when it was convenient to do so further thinned Teryxael, reducing him to a nearly cadaverous state. His bones, of course, are hollow, so, despite his imposing height, he is not physically strong and certainly does not appear to be so. His stature, however, and his rigid composure—always straight backed, always staring directly into the eyes of another—dispel any assumption of frailty.
No, not frail—frightening. The image of a skeleton extends also to his face. Long, diamond-shaped, skin like pale paper stretched across knife-like cheekbones, gaunt enough for shadows to gather in the hollow of his cheeks and below his eyes. His nose is small, narrow, delicately shaped, at odds with the angles of his visage, as is a round chin; his upper lip is thin but the lower is fuller, and both are prone to forming a perpetual suggestion of an infuriating—or perturbing—smile, like the grin of a death's head. ((HELLO GASTON LEROUX)) His eyes, set below crescent-shaped, dark brows, are not flaming red, as would be expected of an evil ruler, or the hollow caverns expected of a rotting skull, but are closer to the latter: small, wide-set, and a pure, untarnished gold, unblemished by pupils, simply molten irises surrounded by white. In the faces of his sister and mother, they were beautiful; in his face, they are unnatural, unnerving. He could be described as beautiful, for there is a definite androgyny to his features, blurring the lines between masculinity and femininity, lending him an ethereal note expected of angels, not demons.
And, like the angels immortalized in stained-glass windows, this face of Teryxael's plays canvas for no emotions. Perhaps the most unsettling thing about his appearance is that he rarely betrays any emotion whatsoever. His eyes do not cloud in anger, his brows do not furrow in concentration; he has no nervous habits or idiosyncrasies. His rare explosions of angers are sights to behold solely because his expression actually shifts, but, otherwise, he is perfectly collected and still. He stares. He smiles, slightly. He watches. He listens. He waits.Personality: (At least two or three paragraphs)
Likes: (At least five or six)
Dislikes: (At least five or six)
Dreams:
Fears: (At least three or four)
I've been around for a long, long year...
History: Two or three paragraphs? HA! You wish!
It is unknown for how long the Realms have existed. To its inhabitants, it is timeless, as immortal as its creatures. The current oldest resident, an elf, says that he lost count long ago at 7000-odd years. Excepting some ill-fated creatures who died before their time, most of the Realmsians can recall the life and times of Teryxael Goldwing the Younger.
There was an elite fragment of the Avion, considered nobility, known for their bightly-hued wings and their intelligence, goodness, and high-standing. Highest among them were the Goldwings. Narisea Windsong wed Teryxael Goldwing (known then as the Just and to become the Elder), soon having their first son, Teryxael the Younger, followed by another, Alistan, and later by a daughter, Ziris. The Goldwings were known not only through their domain, the Fallen Lands, but throughout the Realms themselves, for Xael the Elder was an advisor to Engr, leader of the Fallen Lands. Although the Lands had always been a palce of darkness and terrible power, a great variety of creatures, good and evil, thrived there, and Engr was a fair leader.
The most recent Goldwing generation seemed highly promising--destined for greatness, blessed by the Hawk-Gods, the Avion said. Alistan was hardy and strong, a dedicated worker, as kind and steadfast as his father. Ziris was the mirror image of her beautiful mother and possessed the rare Avion ability to control winds. Teryxael the Younger, however, was renowned most highly. He was highly intellignet and highgly creative, thinking of solutions for everything; he was handsome and a hard worker, and, fatally, dashingly charming. When he was 300, he became engaged to Alessia Swiftwing the Fair, the youngest daughter of a wealthy merchant. She was abnormally beautiful, not very bright, and enormously arrogant--a perfect match for Xael, a complement to his greatness.
Xael had long had a fascination with power--bloody uprisings, coups, monarchs and generals and warfare. He had studied Engr for his entire life, becoming accustomed to his leadership style, finding his strengths, examining his flaws. Xael, quietly at first, merely whispered the flaws of their leader to his betrothed, who ignored him. He then turned to his friends, or to anyone he passed, encouraging them to spread the news. From these ideas came the idea to revolt, and who would be a better leader than Teryxael himself?
The uprising was planned, the date set, all preparations made in secret. Xael had accumlated a knot of devoted followers, among them his brother, Alistan. Ultimately, however, it was his sister that betrayed him: Ziris heard words of betrayal upon the winds and, not knowing that her brother wasa mong them, reported them to Engr. At the next meeting, present were not only the betrayers, but also Engr and his guards. Six men died, and Teryxael was led away in chains.
His lust for power destroyed him. Engr publically stripped Xael of his title, his family name, and even of the color of his wings, changing them from lustrous gold to a dull silver, the mark of a peasant. He was exiled from the Fallen Lands until his death. His wings were clipped, preventing him from flying, which was among the greatest joys to the Avion. Most importantly, however, was when Engr, his face a mask, strode foreward and placed his hands on Xael's face, his fingers upon his temples. "Teryxael Palewing the Silent," he announced, and Xael could speak no more. Xael lunged foreward, managing only to spit in the king's face before, powerless and mute, he was literally dragged from the Lands and hurled into the snow beyond. Needless to say, his engagement had also been called off.
For half a century Xael wandered the kingdoms surrounding the Fallen Lands. Marked by his wings as an outcast, unable to communicate, he was largely ignored or taunted. Xael paid no attention to them--he still considered them all to be below him, instead studying any leader he encountered, every person of power, biding his time, perfecting his 'craft', waiting for a chance for vengeance and rebuttal.
His chance came in the form of a fellow outcast he encountered. Serphas Fleetwing the Cowardly (once the Wise) was an Avion elder, exiled thousands of years ago for betraying Engr during a time of war. Although Xael plead for help from no one, Serphas possessed a potent branch of telepathy; he delved into Xael's deepest ambitions and longed to help him. At a full moon at midnight, Serphas transferred his power to Xael, every fiber, every strand. Xael could now speak telepahtically, but his voice went all over the Realms--by touching someone, he could synchronize the channels of their minds and speak to them privately. With training, he learned to separate his thoughtts from what he wished to say, and how to transfer images to someone's mind. Eventually, after decades, Xael's powers surpassed even Serphas's. One day, he was travelling a road when a centaur tried to rob him. With a flash, Xael saw the man's actions outlined in his head, and Xael simply reached further and quelled it. Blinking, the centaur turned away, but not before Xael blocked the memory from the man's head, then rearranged it so that it appeared to have happened months, years, decades ago. The centaur sauntered on as Xael smirked, then, suddenly, lost consciousness.
So this new power--this mind warping--did not come for free. To Xael, this was a small price to pay. Now he had he tools necessary to take his revenge, and what he still considered to be his rightful throne. Drunk with this new power, Xael stormed into the Fallen Lands and left nineteen people who tried to stop him babbling mad, killing numerous others. Without any fanfare, he seized Engr by the neck, crushed his windpipe, sat in the throne, and calmly demanded that Engr's body be removed from the room.
Thus began Xael's rule.
Thus began the darkness.
Thus begins the chaos.
Family: (Include Mother, Father, siblings, and pets if applicable)
Anything you'd like to add?
It is unknown for how long the Realms have existed. To its inhabitants, it is timeless, as immortal as its creatures. The current oldest resident, an elf, says that he lost count long ago at 7000-odd years. Excepting some ill-fated creatures who died before their time, most of the Realmsians can recall the life and times of Teryxael Goldwing the Younger.
There was an elite fragment of the Avion, considered nobility, known for their bightly-hued wings and their intelligence, goodness, and high-standing. Highest among them were the Goldwings. Narisea Windsong wed Teryxael Goldwing (known then as the Just and to become the Elder), soon having their first son, Teryxael the Younger, followed by another, Alistan, and later by a daughter, Ziris. The Goldwings were known not only through their domain, the Fallen Lands, but throughout the Realms themselves, for Xael the Elder was an advisor to Engr, leader of the Fallen Lands. Although the Lands had always been a palce of darkness and terrible power, a great variety of creatures, good and evil, thrived there, and Engr was a fair leader.
The most recent Goldwing generation seemed highly promising--destined for greatness, blessed by the Hawk-Gods, the Avion said. Alistan was hardy and strong, a dedicated worker, as kind and steadfast as his father. Ziris was the mirror image of her beautiful mother and possessed the rare Avion ability to control winds. Teryxael the Younger, however, was renowned most highly. He was highly intellignet and highgly creative, thinking of solutions for everything; he was handsome and a hard worker, and, fatally, dashingly charming. When he was 300, he became engaged to Alessia Swiftwing the Fair, the youngest daughter of a wealthy merchant. She was abnormally beautiful, not very bright, and enormously arrogant--a perfect match for Xael, a complement to his greatness.
Xael had long had a fascination with power--bloody uprisings, coups, monarchs and generals and warfare. He had studied Engr for his entire life, becoming accustomed to his leadership style, finding his strengths, examining his flaws. Xael, quietly at first, merely whispered the flaws of their leader to his betrothed, who ignored him. He then turned to his friends, or to anyone he passed, encouraging them to spread the news. From these ideas came the idea to revolt, and who would be a better leader than Teryxael himself?
The uprising was planned, the date set, all preparations made in secret. Xael had accumlated a knot of devoted followers, among them his brother, Alistan. Ultimately, however, it was his sister that betrayed him: Ziris heard words of betrayal upon the winds and, not knowing that her brother wasa mong them, reported them to Engr. At the next meeting, present were not only the betrayers, but also Engr and his guards. Six men died, and Teryxael was led away in chains.
His lust for power destroyed him. Engr publically stripped Xael of his title, his family name, and even of the color of his wings, changing them from lustrous gold to a dull silver, the mark of a peasant. He was exiled from the Fallen Lands until his death. His wings were clipped, preventing him from flying, which was among the greatest joys to the Avion. Most importantly, however, was when Engr, his face a mask, strode foreward and placed his hands on Xael's face, his fingers upon his temples. "Teryxael Palewing the Silent," he announced, and Xael could speak no more. Xael lunged foreward, managing only to spit in the king's face before, powerless and mute, he was literally dragged from the Lands and hurled into the snow beyond. Needless to say, his engagement had also been called off.
For half a century Xael wandered the kingdoms surrounding the Fallen Lands. Marked by his wings as an outcast, unable to communicate, he was largely ignored or taunted. Xael paid no attention to them--he still considered them all to be below him, instead studying any leader he encountered, every person of power, biding his time, perfecting his 'craft', waiting for a chance for vengeance and rebuttal.
His chance came in the form of a fellow outcast he encountered. Serphas Fleetwing the Cowardly (once the Wise) was an Avion elder, exiled thousands of years ago for betraying Engr during a time of war. Although Xael plead for help from no one, Serphas possessed a potent branch of telepathy; he delved into Xael's deepest ambitions and longed to help him. At a full moon at midnight, Serphas transferred his power to Xael, every fiber, every strand. Xael could now speak telepahtically, but his voice went all over the Realms--by touching someone, he could synchronize the channels of their minds and speak to them privately. With training, he learned to separate his thoughtts from what he wished to say, and how to transfer images to someone's mind. Eventually, after decades, Xael's powers surpassed even Serphas's. One day, he was travelling a road when a centaur tried to rob him. With a flash, Xael saw the man's actions outlined in his head, and Xael simply reached further and quelled it. Blinking, the centaur turned away, but not before Xael blocked the memory from the man's head, then rearranged it so that it appeared to have happened months, years, decades ago. The centaur sauntered on as Xael smirked, then, suddenly, lost consciousness.
So this new power--this mind warping--did not come for free. To Xael, this was a small price to pay. Now he had he tools necessary to take his revenge, and what he still considered to be his rightful throne. Drunk with this new power, Xael stormed into the Fallen Lands and left nineteen people who tried to stop him babbling mad, killing numerous others. Without any fanfare, he seized Engr by the neck, crushed his windpipe, sat in the throne, and calmly demanded that Engr's body be removed from the room.
Thus began Xael's rule.
Thus began the darkness.
Thus begins the chaos.
Family: (Include Mother, Father, siblings, and pets if applicable)
Anything you'd like to add?
Hope you guess my name...
Your name:(What you wish us to call you)
Parent of which characters: (Who do you play now?)
Parent of which characters: (Who do you play now?)
But what's puzzling you is the nature of my game...
(c) Poe & Realms of Fantasia
Lyrics (c) Guns N' Roses
Do not steal.
It's bad.
