Description
Name: Charon den Shan
Race: Demon
Apparent/Actual Age: 25/?
Sexuality: ?
What type of slave: What do you see in a slave?: Doesn't Really Matter
Appearence: He wears a robe like liquid night. It flows like the rippling of the water as he moves, and seems light as mist, yet the wind cannot disturb its fabric. The left sleeve is longer than the right, hiding a hand covered by a gauntlet of Stygian steel. Long, dagger-like claws reach from his left fingertips, hidden by shadow. His skin is pale as graveyard mist, and stretched over sharp facial features. Wavy black hair tumbles down close to his shoulders, and hide his right eye. A cartilage chain of silver is worn on his right ear, with a needle pendant hanging from the earlobe. Ghostly, skeletal revenants lurk in the shadows, following him through the murky dimensions of night that fill corners and the like. They leave at his whim, and appear - despite their evil forms - quite tame. And his eyes; dark, with the serenity of the night sky. But, if one should look deep, deep into their starry voids, they say you can glimpse the very fires of Hell.
Personality
den Shan cares not about most others. Mostly keeping to himself, he is quiet and serious, letting his eyes do most of his talking for him. He is very calm, slow to anger, but his patience should not be tried. His wrath seems to fit the stereotypical demonic nature: His eyes narrow, and his lips peel back to reveal teeth that have changed to rows of fangs. He is the perfect arbiter, rarely siding on anything that was not of his own, careful design. He is very sophisticated, and spends hours pouring over old tomes in the gigantic library in his manor. den Shan is methodical, cautious; slow to decide on important matters. He thinks much more than he speaks. His sense of humor is often dry or mordant, usually applied only to insult. Yet - and contrary to his being a Demon - he is mostly gentle. Though, one would find it hard to call him "kind".
Equipment
A single gauntlet forged of black steel on his left hand, hidden by the longer sleeve. The polished surface seems to absorb light, not reflect it. The fingers are like daggers, straight and sharp.
History
He dreams of fires. He dreams of darkness. A muddled, chaotic emptiness. A great, yawning void filled with screams, roars, and hatred; accompanied by what seems to be fingers - a hand! - gripping his soul. Yet he knows not of their meaning. The images are none too clear, and the meanings escape him. The answers, the memories, just out of reach. He knows nothing of his past, and very little of himself. He awoke in the dark, disorienting graveyard that spans miles behind his manor. The only knowledge he retained was his name, his race, and the name "Mara Hall". Bits and pieces of his memories come to him, but not all of them are . . . pleasant. The servants of the manor, he found out, are truly Larvae: Shades that, at night, take on hideous forms and defend the property. den Shan finds it ironic that he is a Demon, and yet he hates the hundreds of ghosts, living statues, and countless other dangerous beings that haunt his home and the surrounding property. He originally thought the strange skeletal creatures were the same, until he noticed that he could glimpse what they saw, and that they followed him off the property. Therefore, due to that fact, he hates them the most. He has explored very little of his estate. Much of the graveyard is still a mystery; the entire east side and most of the west side; the upper library; and the catacombs, which he has yet to step a single foot into.
