Araxes

[Desperanza]

Name:
Araxes

[/size]
Age:
Unknown[/font]
Gender:
Male[/font]
Species:
God[/font]
Nationality:
He runs in a nation all his own, for he is a god, after all. [/font]
Looks:
Click!
The lord of the dark, every step he takes emanates the darkness that he represents. He is the ultimate evil and his very body says so. His very skin seems stitched together with flesh like thread, the fibers of his flesh pulled together in intricate and lengthy scars that reach every inch of his skin. Without his robes and to strip him bare would represent a beast to the eyes. His eyes are naught but glowing red orbs, fiery and vibrant. There is no pupil there, simply the flaming, red orbs that he views through of which would give one the thought of staring through the looking glass of red and yet he sees everything with ultimate clarity as is and yet with a film of hatred. His veins are filled with fire, his flesh hot to the touch almost to the point of burning someone. He is not one that causes comfort when he touches and when he does, he fully intends it to be uncomfortable to the one of whom he touches. His teeth are wicked, pointed and seeming from a beast unreal they are pointed and range down like spears into sharp points. If he were to smile, it would be like pearlescent steel staring into the night, sharp and jagged razors threatening to rip apart your flesh and far stronger then any typical enamel of the human mouth. His face, though also sewn together with scars, is always shadowed. He wears his vibrant crimson and ebony robes and nearly every inch of his body is covered. The glow of his orbs the only thing to be seen. It is said, however, that beneath the curtains of robes, is layered beautiful and extravagant layers of rich raven hair that falls far past his back in a curtain that reaches a few inches past his hips. Straight as an arrow and with a crimson shimmer and hue to it, his black tresses never seem to tangle, even being cloaked behind the robes that hide the rest of his body as well.

His facial features are angular though never visible. He keeps his form cloaked and it has been rare that someone has ever had a view at the Lord’s form from beneath the cloth that swaddles his form nearly constantly. It is also said that he does however hold curling horns from his own head, wicked and spiraling upwards, no one has ever caught a glimpse of them and neither is it proven whether they actually exist. For some have said that seeing him truly has given them a view of the most beautiful man on earth and yet others have rumored that he is indeed the most hideous thing to be seen which would lean towards true for he is after all sewn together with thick, raging scars. His head is crowned in twisted metal, the titanium unbreakable and seeming to twist and meld clear into his skin. Ugly, vein like silver tendrils climb along his forehead and seem to have melted right into his skin. A wild crown that has seemingly grown right onto his head and glowing within the towering crown are three glittering gems, the only way one would know that the Lord was arriving, other then the crimson mist that elevates at his arrival. From left to right the beginning gem is one crafted of liquid silver, swirling and vibrant and caught within the diamond like gem that shimmers to the left. The center is a classic crimson rose, golden and beacon like as it glitters brighter then the others, the center piece of his crown. Finally, to the right there is inlaid the gold gem like captured sun fire and glittering just as vibrantly as the others it is studded within the right side of his dark silver crown. Towering spires lift skyward, seven in total, climb skyward from the crown and lift above the folds of the robes that clothe his form and finish the crown that adorns his head.

While his flesh is uninviting, seemingly hideous, his form is willowy and glides on air. His limbs are thin and a solid look at his flesh would reveal vein lines, paper like skin that is nearly transparent which offers him the look of a weak old man through his limbs such as his hands, arms, legs, and feet and yet, if one were to look at his face he would seem to not have aged a day past thirty. His cheek bones are high, his smile a wicked, twisting feature that strikes fear in the heart. His jagged smile always seems to hold sick amusement and his piercing eyes glow red at every moment of every day. His lengthy willowy limbs move with undeniable fluid movements, his fingers unnaturally long. At the end of each finger extends a long, white nail that reaches about two inches from his fingers like strange, straight claws that whisper across the skin threateningly and yet nearly as transparent as his skin however they are not often seen. For where ever he moves, he is cloaked. His crimson and ebony robes hide everything but the glow of his eyes and the sky lifting crown that emanates from the shadows of his face and robes. When he walks, his robes billow and spiral about his form as if taking on a life of it’s own, the power and rage that radiate from him like invisible fire flood the area where he wanders.

Extending from his torso, his rib cage is like a skeleton that has meshed with his flesh. Each rib can be counted and in some stances, a few humans rumor to have seen bone merging in and out with flesh at times though how anyone would know, no one would know. For those whom have ever had the chance to see, have suffered the torture moments before their own death. His form is never exposed and when he speaks, a bone chilling baritone extends into the air. Commanding and chilling, his voice commands the respect that the wicked Lord demands. For he controls the power of hatred, of evil, he is the ultimate of all and for the fact the he himself delivered King Magrej’s power. He has never truly been viewed by the eyes of a human for he rather keeps himself cloaked at all times, the few times that he bothers to wander the earth for at the other times, he doesn’t make an appearance often upon earth. So for those that rumor as to his appearance have quite obviously never met him. For how would one know a thing about a god whom hardly ever graces his presence upon the earth? Rumors may always be rumors. For the small handful of humans whom have graced his presence, have all fit together in an ultimate plan of which he has intricately laid out himself in which to over throw the balance to evil. Causing even the King of Murate to seem like an eager unicorn, the evil lord announces his presence with a curtain of crimson mist that flows along the path that he treads, a bone chilling creeping fog of which shields the area and brings darkness with each step of the lord himself.

The ultimate rumor of which has been carried of the wicked Lord would be that of a wretched soul of whom had met him at one point only to carry the rumor that he had seen the Lord strip away his robes only once to reveal a sight that had nearly killed him. The ripped and scarred flesh of which had been sewn together by invisible wires melted the beauty from his gaze for life. The wretched character whom had stood before him naked and scarred, orbs glowing like unshed flames pulling him closer and when he had touched the paper skin, he had been burned. The sizzle that lifted into the air brought forth a cry to his lips and soon after, the dark laughter of the lord himself. The steel melted into his forehead, the wicked and permanent crown stretching into the sky had gleamed to the suffering of the soul at the Lord's feet as he had writhed in pain. Clawed hands stretched towards the sky as the last of the cloth fell away and the wretched sight before him caused him to keep forward, retching into the night at the thump that seemed to fill his ears and drown away all other sound and when the man looked up to find the source of the sound, the sight was sickening. There in the center of the Lord's chest where the worst of the twisting scars tied together was the skin that shimmered the most, scars twisting and spiraling together just where his heart should be and just where the over powering sound emanated from. The thundering thump was pounding, pushing at the toughened skin, the heart beat evident against the shimmering skin. There was a heart beat there, a wicked gleam racing through the scars with every pound of the strange organ within the crevice of this creature like bolts flashing among the healed over flesh that tied together where the poisoned beats escaped and as he watched, the Lord laughed, and the man fell to his knees with a pained scream as his hands clutched his own chest where his own heart beat fell weak before finally, peace came as his heart stilled and the figure became cloaked once more, the shadows closing in. Now, where is the rumor in that...?
[/font]
Personality:
What more is there to describe the Dark Lord himself? Evil. He is the epitome of evil and wicked. While he was given his power and he was born a god, he was also born with hatred flowing within his heart. He adores the dark and the depressed, the pain and the rage. He thrives off of the darkness. He is the ultimate of evil and with every movement that he makes, he adores swallowing everything away into depression and darkness. He would willingly suck the life out of any creature that crosses his path but not before indulging in torture. He can be passive, however, killing within an instant and bored with it the next. He adores torture and yet, he has better things to do. He has never paused to give hardly anyone the time of day for he is the god after all. The only whom he has bothered to offer an extension to, is his sister and that only being upon his grounds and wishes. He is not giving, nor giddy, nor happy. He does not know the meaning of love, nor passion. He knows only of things that could destroy the human mind and envelope the world into destruction. A handful of unkempt flames he has tempered the world to his side and he works and devotes his existence to bringing the world to his hands, to darkness, and demise. He believes solely in the down bringing of his own sister for her murder, her non existence would bring him a sickening satisfaction. He is a creature of the night, of nightmares. He is the beast you wish you’d never met. He is the creature of whom poisons the heart and wretches the soul.

A single touch and the wither begins. The red orbs piercing into the depths of your soul, wishing nothing more than to wrench out your heart and torture your mind. This brings him sweet satisfaction, the kind that would crush a human, a fairy, a beast. The god of the hatred, death, he sees things through the ebony looking glass. Like a forever piercing poison arrow, he watches the world in rage. The good on earth infuriates and enrages him. He vows that he will convert like a preacher on Sunday morning and yet instead of words, he will torture and he will plot and slowly he will plot and bring down the structures of earth. Soon, he vows that by his own actions and his grants to the humans the means of bringing them down, of spoiling out the good, he will bring to an end the serenity of the world and in time, darkness shall indeed prevail.

Where his poisoned heart came from, no one knows. How to solve this? Take a wild guess. He is a ball of hot gas. His form on earth tortures even with just a look at his wicked, sewn and scarred flesh. The mixture of wretched creature and god creates a beast that spins the soul into tatters before he kills. He feeds off of your pain and he thrives off of your hatred. When he arrives, you listen, or you suffer. Take a trip down torture lane, why don’t you?
[/font]
Items/Pets:
None[/font]
Other:
He is the evil god.[/font]
[/center]