Marroseth.
"Innocent farmers... all butchered along with their wives and children by the darkspawn.... This day is fantastic!"
"Innocent farmers... all butchered along with their wives and children by the darkspawn.... This day is fantastic!"
Nickname: Marroseth, the Flesh Biter.
Marroseth, the Lost.
Marroseth, the Consumed.
Marroseth, the Demon Born.
Marroseth, the Blood Bathed.
Marroseth, the Son of Malice.
Gender: Male.
Age: 20
Sexuality: None, his mind simply does not work that way.
Race: Human, or at least he was. Now partial abomination.
Role: Sociopathic spellcaster, who enjoys ending lives with a sort of manic glee.
Status: Arcane Warrior/Blood Mage
Hair
- Color and Length: Unknown, mask is sealed to his head.
Eye
- Color and Shape: Pale white, leaving lyrium-blue ephemeral trails when excited. They have been known to turn dark yellow and even blood red. The later occurring only when under.... certain influence, and leave trails of inky red vapors giving him an aura of bloodshed.
Skin Tone: When not covered in gore? Pale as a corpse.
Height: 6'4".
Weight: About 170.
Overall Appearance: Description is difficult to give to someone who shows so little. A tall and rather lengthy individual, who tends to loam over most those around him. His appearance was forgotten in an instant the day his new found nature was discovered. Ruined and tattered apprentice robes poke out from under ancient Tevinter armor. The armor itself looks as though something truly wicked has corrupted it, as the white feathered trimming has begun to wilt and rot while the armor dulls and blackens. The fingertips of each gauntlet crack as long, curled claws arch their way out. The ebony mask with gold etchings he wears now serves as his new face, being enchanted to never be removed. Sharp, curving claws poke through Tevinter sandals, and a pair of once-magnificent shinguards protect his legs. In the few moments where his skin sees the outside world, it is deathly white with an unseen sort of taint to it. His eyes appear as though portals to the Fade itself.
Personality: Now this is the fun part. Marroseth has an interesting and constantly changing outlook on this mortal world. For the most part, he is manic and completely psychotic. The first person to ask why he can't kill something/someone in almost all situations. He truly does not understand why he should hold the lives of others in such high regard. Either this, or he simply does not care.
Surprisingly cheery, though the things that make him giddy would make most people cry. Or vomit. Maybe both. The thought of bloodshed excites him above all, and he cares little for who's blood gets spilled. Be it beautiful crimson or deep, inky black, so long as it spills upon the ground in vast quantity, it's a good day. And when he gets to be the spiller of that blood.... well, that is truly a wondrous thing.
But there is another, and much more chilling side to him. The moments of extended pause between the death often bear moments of clarity and self-realization for the being Marroseth. He knows all too well that he should never exist, but yet he does. How? Why? These are anyone's guess. He does not know, and feels he is truly never meant to. He is unnatural, even by Abomination standards. This world has no purpose for him, and thus no path has been laid at his feet.
The only things guiding him have been those with purpose. The whispers that seep into his ear. Into his soul. If he even has one. One tells him such wonderful things, but the other says that he should not listen. So quiet and rare that voice is, often drowned out by it's contender. Marroseth knows how easy he is to sway by those who hold dear what he lacks: purpose. If he has no purpose himself, then maybe he can share or steal that of another?
History: Marroseth's earliest memories are blurred beyond recognition. The exact point of coming into existence is a mystery to him, a blackened gap in time filled by the muffled screams of men, the copper-like tinge of blood on his tongue, and the feel of warm flesh in his teeth. This..... Thing had once been human, a young apprenticed mage. A mage who was to complete his Harrowing, his rite of passage as a mage. What entered the Fade was but a boy, what came back was now the subject of the day. The Templars cried to kill the damnable thing whilst the mages warned that if this was an abomination, then it was unlike any seen before and killing it may allow whatever is inside of him into our realm.
Whatever this being was, the arguments ended at a standstill. They could not let such an insult to the Maker plague our world, and yet they could not end the foul things life. Fortunately, the circle of Magi had a number of arcane relics stored within their tower. Surely one had to be useful, and one was selected. The Adjudicator's Ward. An ancient Tevinter armor created to purge the user of all impurities, when they still believed there may be hope of a second attempt to enter the Golden City. Once it was used to battle demons of sloth and desire, and now it would be used to purge the soul of this possessed body. Didn't go so well, as you can imagine.
Marroseth only remembers being restrained, as the armor was mystically bonded to him. Then all went black for the twisted creature. He awoke sometime later, the armor donned upon him as a shadow of it's former glory. Whatever resided within him was not only apparently strong enough not to be forcibly removed, but corrupted the armor. Though the metal was not the only thing no longer resembling it's old self, as Marroseth felt the changes to his own form. Elongated claws sprouted from his fingers, and his tongue glided over sharpened teeth.
Though it seemed he'd never have the pleasure of using them, as his clawed digits traced the edges of his new face. A face made of iron, bound by magic to never show his sinister grin. It was placed to supposedly forever seal in the demon within him. A foolish endeavor, for the demon did not wish to leave. Marroseth explored his new prison, a cage made with forgotten sigils to ban his use of magic. Cold bars gave view to withering stone ruins, towering trees swaying in a chilled breeze, and several freshly erected military tents and barracks. It appears that the threat of the blight has forced many mages and Templars to the ruins of Ostagar, and they were not keen on the idea of leaving him behind in the Circle's tower. So they dragged him along.
Maybe they intended to leave him to the darkspawn? Maybe the wished to catapult him into the middle of their hordes? Maybe they wanted to open the cage and run away? Then again, maybe they were just going to drown him in a lake?
"How exciting! Today is full of so many possibilities!"
Weapon: His claws and the ability to mystically enhance his physical attributes serve him well in melee combat as does whatever weapon he pries from some corpse's frozen grip, while a long list of the cruelest, most unethical, and morbid spells fills every other occasion. Is unable to use staves of any sort as magical catalysts, and has difficulty casting spells without using blood (not necessarily his) as a medium. Uses a combination of Death and Blood Magic to draw all blood from surrounding cadavers towards him, swirling about his figure as a whirling aura of bright red (or black, depending on what we're fighting). Marroseth can use this blood to power his spells.
Mount: None. Animals seem terrified of him. I wonder why?
Potential Interest:If Marroseth has an interest in someone, it's only because he wonders what that person's entrails would look like once carefully decorated all over that tree over there......