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Dinaeus

Who swore to destroy fate

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a character in “The Multiverse”, as played by Din

Description

There was a Wheel to be turned for this mortal who spoke against them...

Image

Species: Human
Race: French
Sex: Male
Age: 34
Height: 6’2
Weight: 210lbs
Eye color: Gray
Hair color: Gray
Skin: Obnoxiously and grossly tan
Alignment: -
Occupation: Multiverse Enforcer

At 6'2 and weighing 210lbs, he's no push over. His black slacks fit easily over his long legs and his chest slightly bulges from his collared gray T which is also pushed wide outward by Din's broad, muscular shoulders. He is the butt of many jokes due to his gray brows and hair. The accompanying gray eyes add to his ghostly stare.

On the top of subject's forearm is an all too familiar emblem (the Gateway icon). The seal of the Higher Lords was marked on his body in plain, black ink, signifying his position.

Personality

"...Child, you know not the tortures which await you. I say come, try, and fail as those before you have... As those beyond you will..."

Characteristics: Best described as chaotic. His immaturity can be mistaken as mental instability, which lends credence to his chaotic nature. Thought patterns resemble that of an angsty teenager. His quirks are plentiful and sporadic. No general trend has been observed in his pet peeves, though patterns do exist. His reactions to said pet peeves are infantile. Even the slightest annoyance can ignite volatility. Because of this, a proper alignment cannot be established.

His speech is dead-pan and perhaps off-the-wall, but there is more to his words than only face value.

Despite his occupation which should ordinarily deliver with it a classification of Face or Super Face, his brash nature leads many to consider him to be a shame to his title and, for all intents and purposes, crooked.

His overall demeanor is angry; intimidating to the meek and friction to the bold. Brusque as he is, he does not consume alcohol.

In short. Dinaeus Remey is a loose canon.

Equipment

"I hope," Dinaeus began calmly, a subtle indignant tone slowly rising as he turned from his seat to face the monster, "...you've made your last testaments." A piece of the bar counter snapped in his vice-grip. He rose to his feet. "Because I'm going to break your [[i]bleep] skull."[/i]

Skills:

Having traversed many lands in many times, Dinaeus has learned to cope with the difficulty of survival in a world with ‘other’ types of beings by becoming an expert acrobat and hand-to-hand combatant. Although he is proficient in the use of bladed and projectile weapons, they are not his chief choice of weaponry.

Wherever it cannot be avoided, Din can harness the power of what is cryokinesis at face value. His prowess is quite rudimentary.

Contrary to popular belief, Din has an angelic singing voice and a good ear for music.

History

"...shall this mortal choose a path and render the one I have set for him asunder?"
-Fate

Traversing many planets and time periods, Din is a wanderer; collecting skills, knowledge and experience in his own walk through life. His brash and cavalier attitude has lead him to join secret organizations. Other lives have been placed in his blundering hands. He has held Artifacts older than himself, walked into the dreams of broken minds, and even had a skirmish with the motive force of the universe as we know it. To this point, he is not dearth of experience. He has returned from an inexplicable absence to rethrow the world out of balance.

So begins...

Dinaeus's Story

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#, as written by Din
Dinaeus looked on, shocked at the sight of one of his favorite characters from comic books flying from a bar that he patronized. What could it be, thought Din, his thoughts turning introspective, what could it be that inspires writers from my world to write about these characters...

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#, as written by Din
Dinaeus The pallid gray irises moved about the bar again, a cup of water being slid before him as he sat. Yes, Din was a cheap man. By the looks of the up-scale looking bar, it didn't suit his monetary earnings, so he ordered a water. There was so much going on that he was unsure of which situation to watch. The door being kicked open, the battles that were in progress, his favorite villain flying out. His eyes, alas, landed upon two individuals. One was a bird woman (Kijara). Perhaps Din would have been shocked had he not become so accustomed to the sight of side-shows. A gun fight was on the brink of initiation. For the sake of his own health and theirs, he opened his mouth in hopes of quelling the situation to a manageable level. "Say," Din spoke behind a mug of water. "What if I paid...uh, it's debt?"

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#, as written by Din
Dinaeus His eyebrows raised a tad, his forehead wrinkling as a result. Apparently these sky folk had their own lingo; an odd dialect that he probably would not understand, nor did he entirely care to get it. Now, thought Din, what normal being would turn down a payment...what normal being indeed. He examined the beings once again, having forgotten just where he was. Nonetheless, Din surmised that he misunderstood the beings. "How much are you asking for?" He turned his head to the pigeon woman with guns. "You shouldn't take this as a peace offering. When my own interests are at stake, I'll do what I must." He said, meaning that he did not care to find himself in the middle of a gun fight.

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#, as written by Din
Dinaeus He hadn't intended to speak with anyone tonight, but with all the chaos that ensued in the bar, it always seemed to be a fruitless endeavor. "If this 'brown' is some form of currency, I'm sure you can find some means of converting it. I don't like the sound of gun shots and would prefer that it was avoided." He then turned his head to the poor cross breed, as far as he knew. "Are you not...dare I say, some amalgamation of my species and another?" This set off a cascade of biological questions in Din's mind that he decided would probably best go unanswered."

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#, as written by Din
Dinaeus looked at the place where the bullet was shot, a blank expression on his face. Of course his own suggestion may have made the situation much easier for all parties to deal with, but some just liked the hard way. Din could not say he didn't entirely. His head rose and he looked to the beings once more. "For your own sake, I hope you always have that weapon with you...because if I ever see you without it." He left it at that before placing his mug on the counter and leaving the bar.

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#, as written by Din
Dinaeus When he stepped through the door, so absorbed in his own matters, it was as if the world moved around him. Turning and shifting to suit his every need. Din did not walk toward the bar, it was pulled toward him. The patrons, the bar itself was pulled behind him as the bar drew nearer, the floor beneath his feet rolling on an imaginary rotor like a tredmill, sensing his body and moving with his feet. When the bar reached the large framed, self absorbed man, he took his seat at the bar and ordered a drink. The faces of those he'd been told about having not registered on the man's face.

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#, as written by Din
Dinaeus stepped through the threshold of the bar, walking slowly and taking his time to browse about that patrons. The usual, the gray haired cynic thought to himself. "Freaks and weirdos." He silently voiced, making his way to a stool.

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#, as written by Din
Dinaeus took his place in a stool and leaned his forearms on the counter top, shortly after seeing a sight which, but a few months ago may have been incredibly disturbing. Someone or something stabbing themselves repeatedly. Din lifted his head to the tender and requested a simple apple juice. For a man with a penchant for danger, outside of such ventures he kept things quite safe. In this case it was for the simple fact that he couldn't hold liquor to save his life.

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#, as written by Din
Dinaeus having only taken a cursory glance at the person whom he'd taken a seat beside (Bex]), Din decided that it - as he so kindly referred to all whom he'd met in this place - was referencing him. After his order was filled, Din took a long, savory sip of the sweet nectar before setting his glass down. He cleared his throat before speaking in response to the bartender's last comment.

"Mopey people tend to see the plain truth. Something many others decide to ignore or pretend to know. Perhaps being mopey isn't so bad."

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#, as written by Din
Dinaeus toyed with his glass, moving it here and there, back and forth, and to and fro. He watched as the trails of moisture changed shape with each motion. Had a spectator observed closely enough (indeed that spectator would need to be hovering over the man's shoulders), it would have seen something very unnatural. Presently, however, he was distracted from his distraction by the 'tender's words. Din raised his head and turn to the woman (apparently) the bar tender had been speaking of.

"Well," he said in an inhalation. "It's a woman." He said, both to the bartender and to himself. "They're moody and temperamental." He took another sip of the juice in his glass before speaking again. "But at least it isn't a fanatical cult gunning for your head because of a 'magical' broche. Din chuckled to himself.

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#, as written by Din
Dinaeus nodded once as the woman loosed the familiar phrases of women. “That’s a woman for you.” He said and took one final sip of his apple juice before setting the glass down and requesting another. He placed his hand down on his lap, just near his upper thigh to feel the nub of an object he’d placed in his pocket. He sighed and leaned his head on the other hand, waiting for another apple juice to come.

“I wouldn’t know if that was them or not. I’ve only seen pictures of those fools. And as for why they’d be after a ‘magical’ broche. It’s as simple as this:”

Din paused for effect as well as to pass time as he awaited another glass or liquid goodness. “…They’re dumb.”

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#, as written by Din
Dinaeus A child-like excitement was hidden behind a stoic face and pallid, gray irises. His took hold of the new glass, pushing the old aside and took his time to imagine the taste in his mouth before taking a small sip. Enjoy the small things in moderation, Din thought as he set the glass down, thirsting for the rest of the glass in one more gulp.

“Well,” he finally decided to respond to the woman. “I think they’re trying to free some beast. I wouldn’t know why, though. Maybe some skewed superiority complex…Whatever it is, they’re definitely dumb.

Din then turned to face the woman once more. “Do you always ask strangers such questions?”

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#, as written by Din
Dinaeus "That's women for you." Din reiterated to the 'tender as the woman made her leave, tilting the cup yet again with the lid between his lips.

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#, as written by Din
Dinaeus pushed by the door of the bar, sauntering at a rather slow pace, indifferent of those around him, whether they were trapped behind him, condemned to move at his own pace for however long, or whether he had so rudely stepped between two people - if the term applied - conversing. Alas, Din took his seat at a stool and leaned forward on the counter top, requesting an apple juice from the bartender. Tough as he looked (and indeed he was), Din wasn't one that could hold his liquor.

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#, as written by Din
Dinaeus As was his custom, Din wrapped his hand around the glass, feeling the sensation of the cold condensation on his hand. To many, as Din stared at his glass, this may have been an indication of insanity as his piercing gray irises bore into the cup (not that it mattered. Din had yet to meet someone he thought was sane since his arrival. Nothing but circuis freaks and side shows comprised this universe), but to Din, it was an exercise in patience. As he lifted the glass to his lips, Din noticed a boy at his side from his peripherals. He set the glass down without taking a sip and spoke in his usual deep, impersonal monotone.

"I wasn't aware that kids were allowed in bars." He directed more to everyone than he did to the boy himself.

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#, as written by Din
Dinaeus Upon entering the bar, Din made a quick sweep of the place, placing cursory glances upon the patrons of this fair place. 'Freaks as usual.' Thought the gray haired wanderer, wandering his way to a steel legged stool for a place to rest his tired bottom side. He leaned on the bar, hanging his head over his crossed forearms. It had been a long day.

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#, as written by Din
Dinaeus let loose a sigh before lifting his head. His gray irises dilated to the changing light. He took the time waiting for the bartender to consider what he wanted. The normal, thought Din, as the bar tender approached. It was always the same thing "Apple juice." His deep, raspy bass echoed from his larynx into his mouth. He turned his head at the sound of someone whom he thought was speaking to him (Christian Locke). Unaware of what had been said to him, his face stoney and expressionless, he spoke again, this time to the stranger. "What was that?"

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#, as written by Din
Dinaeus ‘Reading on the job?’ The man thought, watching as the sweet nectar oscillated in the glass placed before him. ‘In a land of side-shows…’, he thought, lifting the glass and taking a sip. He placed the glass exactly on the ring of condensation left from his initial lift. Presently, a cat had wrapped itself about his leg(Saken). Din rolled his eyes, lifting his free hand to rest his head on. Some screws were definitely loose, but Din had been around long enough to know that this probably was no ordinary cat. He then turned his head to the man who sat beside him again…Christian was his name. Din looked at the man’s hand uninterested. “I’m Din.” he said in response. “Why so cheery?” He asked without inflection, more like it was a statement.

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#, as written by Din
Dinaeus After another sip, Din glanced back down again, feeling a tighter grip about his leg. He sighed, probably not as interested as he should have been (or at least as a spectator would think he should have been). When it looked up, the moment that its eyes were exposed, Din saw what he had seen so often in his own eyes. It was the gleam of a killer. Though he recognized what he'd seen, he returned his gaze to the middle distance, resting both elbows on the counter of the bar. It didn't matter, though, thought Din. Taking the last sip from his glass and again setting it exactly on the first ring. If anything punctured his skin, the beast would find itself without a head.

"Is there something you want?" He said to the thing on his leg, nodding to the bartender, indicating his request for another apple juice.

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#, as written by Din
Dinaeus stepped into the bar with both hands in their respective pockets. As he stepped through the doorway and headed for the bar, his head moved to and fro, casting furitive glances about the place; if only for one moment observing the freaks, ghouls, whores, and more before sparing himself further pain of viewing these eye sores and casting his gaze on the seat he'd hoped to take.

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