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| Ty von Klaus; Hungarian Witch. | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Sep 6 2008, 05:02 PM (206 Views) | |
| Ty von Klaus | Sep 6 2008, 05:02 PM Post #1 |
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The person behind the character: Name: Sean Nickname: Sparx Age: 19 Contact: sparky_668@hotmail.com Character Information: Name: Tyzar von Klaus Nicknames: Styxx ot Ty. Age: 19 Race: Witch. Powers: Styxgian - the manipulation and control over shadows. No matter how diluted the shadow may be or how small it is, the wielder can manipulate it into a solid form, using it like any solid object. The more the user wishes to manipulate the more it plays havoc upon the nervous system and the brain. The longer the use and more broader the usage, the more painful it becomes. To over come the painful nature of this power, the user can use enegry suplements such as sports drinks or tablets to ease the pain and use the power for longer. Scrying Curse - The ability to change the very fabric of matter, the atoms which make up everything can be resonated at such a frequency that it either creates radiation energy in heat objects or literally rips things apart. This ability is highly taboo and is only used subconsciously, if was to manifest into the primary functions the user would become mentally unstable as the scrying would occur within their mental perception. Member Title: Styxx. Occupation: Pianist. Birthday: 14th september. Birthplace: Volhynia, Hungary. Likes: Triphop, loosing himself within books, his powers, his music and his pace of lifem his doberman 'Fabian'. Dislikes: Too much bright light, musicians who are tone deaf, close minded hypocracy, generalising folklore and superstition. Fears: Drowing and being manipulated without restraint. Strengths: His capacity to soldier on through any situation. Weaknesses/Flaws: A unique detatchment from the normal social behaviour, prefers not to be too open around other people. The language barrier. Nervous habits: Chewing upon his finger nails, another is smoking. Personality: Tyzar comes across completely numb to all he meets, that is infact, because he is. Although he believes himself to be a genious of unfathomable proportions. He is cynical, sardonic and just out right blunt in the fact he enjoys mocking the world around him. Women, children, strife and struggle its all the same to him, something to insult, something to do. He delves into piles of records and stacks of music like a child does into icecream. When meeting other people, he first decides wether they are worth his time and if they are, he starts off an a musical note. If they decline it is their own choice but if they accept the conversation, well he just see's it as another form of music to be made. Portrayal: David Usher Picture: ![]() Hair colour/style: A dark, raven black and cropped to his jawline. Left to its own device. Eye colour: A deep blue shot through with grey. Hazed and quite ghost like. Weight: Ty only weighs around 180lbs, he isn't a big eater as he's fussy on what he consumes. Height: Ty is quite tall, giving him a gaunt appearance, he stands a six foot two. Build: Ty is rather slim with some hint of muscle upon his frame. Attire: There is no fashion sense to what Ty wears, its always what he feels like wearing. If someone has a problem with the way he dresses, they usually recieve a crude gesture. His feet are always booted, he doesn't like the soft, cushion of trainers or the clack shoes make. He wears all manner of old clothes he can pick up in charity bins or in discount stores. He doesn't see a point in spending vast amounts of cash upon a piece of clothing. He wears baggy jumpers, mostly cotton with no logo's, generally old army issue. He has a selection of tshirts, plain, pastel or logo'd. His wrist is covered by a black leather watch, set in digital. The numbers flashing red. Around his neck is a small square picture of Amun-Ra carved into soft lead, no particular reason for it, just he found it interesting. His legs are usually covered in tatty, worn jeans or cargo's with the many pockets full of odds and ends. His feet are booted up until his shin, puffing out the bottom of the cargo's and camo's. The jeans he lets droop down over the combat boots. History: Tyzar was born in the '88 within the City of Volhynia. He was the son of a succesful german consierge, Gorcho von Klaus, and a Hungarian woman by the name of Ilana Daidan. He grew up living the life of a young, rich child. Having all the luxuries denied everyone else in the city. Living in the giant manse his father had built outside the city, he was harboured into private tutorage, servants, all the toys he could possibly wish for. The finest foods and finest drink from within the Principality and a drive for music. At the age of 6, his power began to manifest itself. He was left to play with a courtiers daughter, who was of an age to him. Within his play quarters she wished to play a simple game of hide and seek. He slipped off to hide in his fathers study. He wasn't found until four days later, huddled and crying upon the marble floor of the conservatory, dressed in the same clothes. The child grew into a twisted youth, hiding in the shadows and terrifying people in the streets of Volh. His father had tests done upon him, sent him to every doctor, physician, medical scientist his money could buy, but none could come up with why the boy could seemingly control shadow and slip away like a chameleon into dark places. His father forced him to join the Orthodox church in the city. However as he advanced in age, his teenage cunning kicked in and he began to manipulate the priest into thinking Ty was the spawn of the devil. He found it all hilarious but evidently everyone else didn't. He went on in his life, taking up the piano as it was the only instrument his father had in the house other than an old battered harp. Ty found he had a talent for the keyed instrument and quickly began to fall into the spiral of music. At the age of eighteen he was given a doberman pup by his mother to keep him company as Ty was forbidden to see others his age. His father was more worried about his business reputation than his sons social interaction. After his nineteenth birthday he was chasing the dog through the halls and corridors of his fathers manse. The dog bounded into the indoor swimming pool and stood on the other side barking at him in play. He charged after it, slipped upon the wet tiles and crashed into the water. Ty had always been afraid of the water, never learning to swim. He'd tried, but his body wouldn't let him, his fear of drowning was too intense. He was slowly dying, his lungs were burning and water was trickling down his throat. As he blacked out something happened. His second power manifested itself in his unconsciousness. He literally caused the water to explode outwards and dissolve. The tiles shattering and the walls of the pool crumbling. He lay, wet and out cold upon the bottom of the pool, a crater had been punched into the ground beneath him. That was when he was shipped to Immortalis. His father would not have him in the house anymore and his mother had searched for a place other than social care for her son. So Ty, his dog and all his belongings were shipped off to New Orleans. Sample rp: "Sure, Frank. " The voice mumbled into the phone. "Put Josie to bed by ten." Plush lips rubbed across the reciever. "Uh..huh. " A sheaf of paper rustled and was filed away by deft, pale hands. "Love you too Frank. " The dead tone, something which always sent chills up her spine. It reminded her too much of the stop tone upon the life support. The sound that truly tore her beloved James away from her. It was six years today, little James Halloway died upon that hospital bed. Something had happened to him, an animal attack or something. The police suspected it was a rabid dog. However the paramedics insisted the bite marks were human. She'd lost her poor baby boy, only four years of age to a horrible attack. She'd never know what happened. After tonight, she'd never know anything. " Hey Julia" She jumped almost an inch from her seat. Her heart was set to racing and it tried to claw its way out her throat. She wheeled round and spotted Larry, the senior security guard with his head around the door. Fat, balding Larry with a limp, who'd she'd never replace. " Jesus' Christ Larry! You made me jump a mile. " Her slim, pale hand came to her chest, to rest against her thumping heart. Several locks of auburn hair fell across her eyes, she blew at them. " Heh, sorry darl', just thought i'd let you know, theres only the history temps from the university in the labs tonight, so incase you hear noises. Its just them. " She nodded, then began to laugh. The irony of his warning, she'd jumped at him, imagine what would have happened if he hadn't told her and she heard things clattering about. Her imagination ran rife with images of mummies and zombies coming to life from the coffins and tombs in the labs. She shook her head. An over active imagination was bad. " Thank you Larry, you go on upstairs and check the halls. " He nodded and left her to her work. Julia Halloway, 32 and stuck in horrible place. She loved her daughter, loved her so much. But she wasn't James. No matter how much she tried to connect with the girl she'd always be Franks little princess, never hers. She'd lost her little prince and he was never coming back. She tucked her almost cinnamon locks back, her pale green eyes flicking over the small object upon her desk. It was strange. It had been found with the sarcohpagus, the strange coffinette which had been sent to them from Hungary. The photo graphic evidence left with the file had been strange, almost macabre to look upon. The tomb they had found this particular cadaver in had in all pretense been sealed. With people still in it. They had found several other smaller coffinettes containing four Poor Knights of Solomon, or Knights Templar as commonly depicted. Each wearing tradition armour and weaponry of that time. Yet the flesh hadn't decomposed as expected. All were intered into the Vault beneath the labs. She knew there were older vaults beneath even their bank-grade vault but they were sealed away from public and had been for sometime. They had no idea down what was down there and they had been told it was ruled as against the contract on the old building if they wanted to open the vaults. Her office was one floor above the labs, at this moment, filled with students from the university analysing all manner of artifacts. Clad in hazmats and breathing units as not to damage any of the sometimes millenia old objects. But this thing infront of her was strange. It was a book, bound in black leather but upon closer inspection it had been revealed as human skin. Upon the front, a small symbol of three silver skulls was embossed upon it. When opened, the book seemed to sigh with age and the hairs upon the back of the neck stood up like spines. The book had been translated, but only so far. The translator had given up seven pages in and had to attent psycho-therapy for the things he'd discovered. It was, in all respects, a book of the dead and how to control them. Practices like this weren't uncommon in most ancient societies. However this book, the machinations of its diagrams, was almost plausible. Like it could be done, with alittle bit of faith, it could be done. The ability to control death. Julia rubbed at her forehead. She needed to think about this, find out exactly where the book had come from and if the body they had in the Vault was indeed the Prince of Hungaria from the 1600's. If he was, this would open up entirely new evidence into the culture from that point and possibly tarnish the name of the old royal houses from that principality. She needed to think. Snatching up the zipbag the book was sealed in she exited her office and made for the elevator. The only way into the labs, so that if in the event of a fire, it could be contained below ground. She punched the vault floor button and waited for the humming to begin. The lift box juddered to a halt several minutes later and hissed open into a clean room. She suited up, pulling the hazmat on over her labcoat, settling the breathing mask into place and zipping everything closed. She took the book in her hands and entered through the gas chamber. Now decompressed and sterile she entered into the room. Several of the students waved, a few spoke words she could not hear. She moved past all of them. Somehow, since she had read the first pages of the book she'd been drawn into visiting the coffinette often. It seemed, to clear her thoughts. Like, there was something else about it, that it wasn't just a rotted corpse. She knew she could not confide that to the others. Before she knew it she was at the Vault door. The giant steel circle looming above her, the punch code infront of her. She stabbed in the code and the warning light whirled on. She stepped back and let the door swing slowly open. Then she entered. The room was built of solid three foot thick steel. A metal box beneath the earth. A freezer of sorts, cold air was pumped into the Vault to keep everything preserved. A thin film of hoar frost covered the surfaces. There it was, the black and gold coffinette upon its stone pedestal. Four smaller squares arrayed around it. The Corpse Knights, the students were apt to naming them. Julia moved forward and sat upon the pedestal beside the coffin, and felt better for it. She unzipered the polythene bag and brought the book out. She picked up where she left off. Then turned the page. From here on it wasn't translated, but several of the words made sense, like Mortem, Sepulchade and Wraithan. But there was one word that kept cropping up through the pages, a name it had been decided. Cappadocius. She began to flick through the pages, letting herself be drawn in by the horrific diagrams drawn in human vitae. " What secrets do you hold...who are you? " She asked the coffin quietly. But curiosity got the better of her. It had been opened twice. What would a third time be? Aslong as she documented it as research, no one would ask questions, she was the curator. She stood, placed the book down and gripped the faded golden sides of the lid. With a unlady like grunt she shifted the weight of the stone lid, sliding it sideways to reveal the gaunt grim corpse within. A black shrouded skeleton, with a porceline mask. A sad, mocking smile entered upon the cracked effigy. She lifted the book and leant over the coffin. She thumbed the edge of the page and lifted. Pain blossomed along her hand. She dropped the book and watched the blood pool from her thumb, pumping out through the torn hazmat. The page had been edged with metal, spotted with rust and degraded but still sharp as a razor. As she lifted her hand, to staunch the blood, several droplets beaded down to splatter upon the masks forehead. Staining the white with hot red blood. She watched the tiny stream of watery blood slip down into the left eye socket of the mask. She shook her head and cursed, she'd contaminated the body and the artifacts found with it. This was probaly her career ruined. As she turned to leave the lab something tightened around her wrist. A vice like grip that crushed the bones together, snapping something inside. Pain lanced up her arm but the sheer horror of what was grabbing her caused her to scream out. The corpse had ahold of her, it was sat up, in a mock parody of a stretch. One skeletal hand, layered in flax skin was viced upon her wrist. She felt the skin tear and rip and blood bubbled up out of the suit where her hand parted from her arm. She screamed long and she screamed loud. The pain almost caused her to black out. But then another pain, a pain she only ever felt when Frank was getting carried away during sex. A good pain. It spread throughout her body from her neck, and when she pulled her eyes down to see what was happening she recoiled in shock. The thing was biting her. It had no mask, the porceline discarded. It was a skull, bleached and stained from age but a skull staring at her. Staring at her with eyeballs, pale blue chips of death gazing into her soul. She could feel her life slip away as the monster drained her dry. And only one thought peirced the veil of pain. James. ~ It was like taking that first breath. The one that meant nothing. That simple action you took for granted as a mortal. So fresh, so beautiful and soooo good. The vitae was hot, hot and boiled to perfection through pain, fear, anquish and terror. Nothing better. The jaw clacked together, the sharp, curved canines scraping down the grooves in the lower jaw. The eyeballs inflated and became blood shot. The blood. The Beast ensared. Blood. The throat pumped and missused muscles expanded. Dust puffed out of the rips in the pale, dried skin. But the skeletal finger nails peirced through the skin, becoming long sharp claws meant for cleaving flesh. The fangs screeched out of the jaw, elongating to twice their normal size. The Beast had control and it wanted one thing. Blood. The coffin crashed to the ground with a thunderous bang. ~ The thunderclap ripped through the lab. Peirce Bronson, Senior student in charge of the project lifted his head. He placed down the tools he was working with and called out to two of his team mates. All three approached the corridor that led to the Vault. What he saw confused him. The Vault door open a fraction, brilliant red blood bright against the white of the white tiled floor. The hot liquid dripped over the frame of the vault door. The curator. He ran towards the vault, grabbed the door and pulled it open. He died. One of the technicians skidded to a halt, long enough to scream before skeletal fingers punctured through his throat and tore the head from his torso. Splashing the walking corpse in a shower of hot blood. The third was frozen in place. He was staring at something he thought only superstition. The Grim reaper. It was not real. A walking fucking skeleton! It wasn't real. But it was real enough when the thing tore him apart with its bare hands. The last thing he remembered seeing was two red eyes. ~ The last remaining technicians and students all arrived to see what was happening. Then chaos ensued. As they dashed for the elevator, screaming and crying in terror. All were halted in place by a single word. A word that entered their heads. One that wasn't spoken. But louder than a gunshot. Louder than anything ever heard before. Something terrible, the unspoken voice full of malice. It gave one simple command on a mass scale. STOP. And they did, no matter how much they tried to resist, their bodies would not move. Their minds slipping into unconsciousness. The last thing Timothy Janes saw was a black death devouring all his friends and collegues. Then nothing. ~ It was almost orgasmic. It had been hundreds of years since he felt close to something like that. But it was. Full of blood, content for now the Beast slipped back. The Harbinger Of Skulls gazed about him. His vision blurred but returning. A clack of his jaw and a word rushed out. A voice as old as hate itself, a voice that sounded like sheer malice. " ARISE. " Behind him, within the vault, the four undisturbed coffinettes exploded open. Each Corpse Knight shambled upright and dragged themselves from their stone prisons. The Harbinger was flooded with thoughts and memories. He was Exalted In Death. Walks with Souls. Then the hatred began to fill him. The Cappadocian treachery. Such hatred and anger it was that the blood within boiled. The mangled corpses of the mortals he'd destroyed twitched in unison. But those still intact began to rise, stand and stare lifelessly at their new master. It was then he knew. He knew he was the only one. The only one of his kin to arise first. He was Elder. He opened his mouth and another word burst out. " CAPPADOCIUS. " The cadavers did not respond. The armoured Knights twitched. Then with a burst of anger and hatred a myriad of colours invaded the air around his skull. Every creature within an almost city wide radius would experience a sickening thought. A twisted voice clacking within their minds. The words, just percieved, were. I HAVE AWOKEN. |
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| Nikita Monroe | Sep 6 2008, 06:01 PM Post #2 |
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Deputy Head Teacher
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[noms him] You know he's accpeted <3 |
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[size0] Bring So cold like a glance from my eyes Accept the way it's meant to be A mental Go down hear the sound of a gentle man Leading you straight to the void Where the neon bastards they make Dropouts out of x x x![]() x x x x![]() So here I am going straight to the plan Never knowing that I'm Walking the thread that's so precious to me A secret part of my history My time- to short as nothing beckons to me My time- goddamn what is it I try to be Fill the hole a Become the master of a freak show. | |
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8:22 AM Jul 11