Stygian

Information

Player: dannyhero

Character Full Name: Stygian Bleakgrasp.

Character In-Game Name: Stygian.

Nickname(s): None.

Associations: Knights of the Ebon Blade.

Race: Human

Class: Death Knight.

Age: 23(Age upon Undeath.)

Sex: Male.

Height: 6'2"

Weight: 206 lbs. (Without armor.)

Eyes: Icy Blue.(Death Knight.)

Hair: Sickly white. It hangs down in his face as tattered remnants, his face is matted with stubble, thicker around his chin and mustache.

Appearance

Usual garments/clothing: A suit of dark blue and black armor, it's a dull metal, caring little reflection almost a void sucking in light. It is usually covered in a small sheet of frost from his time in Northrend.

He has a scar across the bride of his nose. One missing eye, though the crater that he once peered through to the world, now merely harbors the cold blue glow that marks him as a death knight. His body apart from fatal crawl wounds on his torso, as well as sever lacerations to his limbs, is in perfect fighting condition, his physical form tempered into a weapon during his time fighting for the Crusade. His skin is the murky color of coal, and doesn't look too healthy, either scarred, owning new wounds, or dirty. His face is gaunt and tired, his eyes sunken in and stiff. The sides of his mouth are usually weighted down with a scowl of discontent, unless he is killing undead, in which case, it either turns to rage, or apparent joy.

Personality

He despises undead with a passion unmatched, going as far as hating his own state, only the drive to kill the Scourge trumps it, and fuels his continuing existence. Such a dazzling personality! He tends to treat living beings with scorn, jealous of their purity, and generally hate to all races other then human, seeing them as savage, and filthy, he'll often make his feelings known when speaking to them, usually using demeaning names, as well as speaking slowly in an attempt to make them understand common easier. Sometimes he'll outright ignore anyone he can, pretending to not hear them, by now, hating most everything hes around, the other Knights, the undead monstrosities they.

Even the ones who were once human, are now too unclean to even think about conversing with if he can help it. Often masking depression with rage, hes all around hostile most of the time, in and out of combat, he speaks in a condescending and harsh tone, the metallic ring of his voice carrying malice on his tongue. His icy blue eyes are usually floating around, scanning at all times with a great paranoia. In private, he will likely be found brooding, or causing self inflicted wounds to his cold shell, etching verses from prayers tomes into his blackened skin.

History

Born in Hearthglen, Stygian was the son of a preacher and his humble house wife, good people, who were well versed in the teachings of the holy light, but strict, believing the light was a code to live by, never meant to be bent or broken, holding a distrust to the mages of Dalaran, and Kul Tiras, for their worship of things such as magic, and gold, as they would put it.

His father believing in martial punishment, gave regular whippings to the boy as penance for any wrong doing he would commit. Raised with a strong sense of right and wrong, Stygian put himself higher then ordinary citizens, believing the Light shone on him for being in it's grace, doing as it commanded, he would he honored with it's strength. Always reading from his father's prayer tomes each day and sunrise, and sunset, he became stepped in the three tenants, a zealous attachment to them.

He was sent away to become a knight, going to the meet with the Silverhand, he was made a squire and traveled with his paladin teacher. When the Scourge came,he spent much of his time reluctantly polishing armor and cleaning bloody weapons for his mentor, feeling his talents being wasted, but not faltering for his desire to become a paladin. After the fall of the order, he was taken with his master back to his hometown of Hearthglen, where the Scarlet Crusade began to form, due to the lack of able boddied men after Lordaeron's fall, he was used as a front line troop, and fought valiantly along side the fractured remains of Lordaeron's more devoted survivors. Still honoring his father, who he later learned died during The Defense of Hearthglen after eating some plagued grain. His young heart grew harder as his people were constantly being pushed back by the growing mass of Scourge, and watched as his brothers in arms grew restless. Blind to the corruption in the upper ranks, Stygian himself was merely focused on killing any Scourge he could get his hands on.

Until during an assault gone wry, he was slain, his comrades pushed back by a wave of undead before gaining a chance to consecrate his body. In the beginning he had no control, squeezed tightly in the Lich King's grasp, he was a puppet, used to slaughter his former kinsmen during the attacks on the Scarlet Enclave, his hate only boiled swifter for Arthas and all undead. His thoughts filled with images of driving his runeblade through his cold heart each time he was near enough to receive orders, but unable to lift his hand, it was torture. After the events at Light's Hope, he could only think his mind conflicted with his old teachings, that he should not exist as he is, undeath being unwholesome and unnatural, dreams of suicide danced in his head, as well as a burning desire of retribution for all the Lich King's done to him and his people, mixed with the small glimpse of hope, that possibly killing him would cause a chain reaction that wiped out all undead as well. So after much deliberation, he joined the Ebon Blade, working as and with the things that own malice only second to the Lich King himself to further his highest goal.