Chronoclis Pheonox, from The Multiverse, a roleplay on RPG

Standing at a whopping eight feet tall, Chronoclis is a giant of a man. His size is enunciated by the two long, black horns that curve back off the top of his head, making him a whole foot taller than his original height of eight feet. His skin isn't pale, but it isn't tan either, indicating that he doesn't spend an excessive amount of time in the sun. His eyes are a dull gray normally, with circular pupils that appear to be human. When Chronoclis is aroused, however, by murder or any other stimuli, his eyes change into a sickly orange-ish yellow, with slitted black pupils; reptilian eyes. His features are wide and moderately attractive. His hair is fairly short around his head, but his bangs stick out about a foot and a half in front of his face, held aloft by magic.

Chronoclis wears a black leather long coat, the bottom being just above his ankles. The coat is cut into strips from the waist down, allowing it to cover his legs, but also giving him mobility. Underneath, he wears nothing to cover his chest, though he does keep the coat buttoned up to the neck. His pants are leather and relatively tight, and his feet are covered by thick, black boots that lace up to just above the ankle, the tops hidden beneath his long coat. He also wears leather gloves that extend to his elbow, up into the tight sleeves of the leather coat.

The man's build is not insanely muscular, but he is toned. His body most nearly matches that of a professional runner.

Personality

Chronoclis is a sick and twisted man. His childhood has warped his mind, making him confused and evil. He often does what he is commanded to do, but not exactly as he is commanded to do it. He greets everyone with a smile. The smile seems innocent at first, but as he draws closer to you and draws his weapons, you begin to realize how sick it really is.

Equipment

Eh...I'm just going to post a list of his equipment and powers.

Strength equal to that of 100 normal human men in piq physical condition.

The ability to cast a variety of magical spells, specifically those pertaining to summoning and fire. Chronoclis uses this summoning primarily to summon and dismiss his two butcher's knives, but can also do this to other objects. His portals cannot, however, accept living matter. People, babies, and small rodents cannot be dismissed or summoned. He can generate a second type of portal that living matter can enter, but they cannot be forced through against their will, due to magical law. A solid surface is required to open one of these portals, and must be big enough to allow for a portal about the size of your average coaster. Due to further magical restrictions, they cannot be opened on the surface of living matter, such as on Chronoclis' body. Clothing and directly underneath a living thing is also off-limits, as there's a radius that the portal must be kept out side of, so as not to disrupt the magical flow of a living creature. Chronoclis can open them on the palms of his gloves, when he wears them, because they are specially enchanted to allow for it.

Chronoclis cannot just fire off a spell that doesn't pertain to fire or summoning. Spells in other elements and fields of study must be charged, generally taking one to two role play turns. They can be charged longer for more powerful effect, but no longer than three turns, or else Chronoclis' body cannot contain the energy. Most spells require power words, generally in Latin, though there are a few that Chronoclis only needs to think the words to, such as his portals. Most spells he casts generally manifest within about a foot or two of him, so he cannot, for instance, summon a fireball behind a person and have it smack into their back. His portals are a bit of a different story, but they, too, have their range limits. He has also enchanted his blood to be moderately acidic. It will not normally melt metal, but it can cause burns on skin and the surface of stone/similar materials. Metal is often unaffected by it.

Chronoclis' knives have dark magic enchantments that make them indestructible and incredibly sharp. Their magical enchantments have been proven to allow them to slash through some energy constructs, depending on the laws these constructs abide by.

Though he can't take Dragon form, Chronoclis does have a thin-but-solid layer of scales over most of the skin on his body, meaning that he can withstand a slash attack or two, and possibly a pistol-caliber bullet. The scales will break or be knocked off by any sort of heavy force, such as that of bullets or a good sword swing, meaning that sustained attacks on any part of his body will quickly break through the scales and expose his skin.

Chronoclis has enhanced reflexes and agility. He can't dodge bullets, but he can keep up with most martial artists, at least for a time. This comes from years of near-constant combat with other warriors from various cultures. He has no formal style, but some moves might be recognizable. This makes him a slightly less efficient fighter in terms of hand-to-hand, but his moderate melee skills mixed with his others allow him to hold his own against most enemies.

History

In another place, some time ago, Chronoclis was a normal child, for his race. He was a Dragon; a First Dragon. His race was one of the most powerful of any of the scaled races to ever walk the planes. Despite their immense size and power, First Dragons were an incredibly reserved species. They used their intense aptitude for magic to compress themselves into a human form, and rarely, if ever, left it. Chronoclis has never taken his full form, and because of his lack of training as a child, can't....but he still possesses the magical strength of his race, as well as most of the physical strength. When chronoclis was eight years old, his rich uncle showed up at his home unannounced with two black-suit-and-tie wearing men at his side. His father had never been on good terms with his uncle, so he was immediately suspicious. Soon after entering, the two men in suits assaulted his parents in unnatural ways, revealing themselves to be agents of the hellish army that was slowly taking over their universe. His parents were killed, and when he and his twin brother, Agrael, attempted to fight his uncle...well, despite their race, they were still children. Agrael was thrown through a wall and Chronoclis was dragged out to his uncle's limousine, where he was tied up and set backwards in his seat...as the limousine pulled away, he watched his home burn.

After Chronoclis was taken, he was set in a dark cell some where deep under ground. All he could hear was screams, and nothing he could smell was pleasant. The place smelled like a mixture of burning flesh and human waste...over the next few months, many people...many things...entered Chronoclis' cell. They did awful things to him, things that he didn't want to remember, things he couldn't handle. After a year of this treatment, the warped and twisted now-nine-year-old emerged from his cell. He was in a place filled with horrors...horrors doing horrible things to captured victims. His uncle was gone, and so were the two men that had been with him. Now he saw only a figure, shrouded in black; sick, white, flesh-like material hanging out of the seams in folds. The creature was Sloth; he knew it as soon as he entered its presence. The air was heavy; Chronoclis felt slow. Was this the thing that had kept him here? Was this the creature that had ordered his torment? Chronoclis roared with something he had never felt before; pure, unfettered hatred. He rose from the ground, where he had fallen as he entered the court, held there by the unbearable urge to be limp and lazy. As he rose, he tensed his muscles, preparing to charge the creature. He had no idea what he would do. He was wild, mentally ill, blind with this sickening rage he felt, and all he wanted to do was be better, be better by destroying everything he could see, starting with Sloth.

Just as he was about to charge, the creature slung something toward him with a slimy, sickly-colored tentacle. "Yours" he heard, somewhere deep inside his head...neigh, his soul. Two objects lay before him, identical in shape and size. Chronoclis fell to his knees, his hands grabbing the slimy handles of of the two butcher's knives.

As soon as he touched the objects, he felt it all: The promise of release, the crushing will for him to submit, the lies that told him he would be free, be happy, be rid of the memories of the horrors....

Chronoclis set the two knives down on the floor before him. "Yours" he said. But Chronoclis did not let go of the handles, he did not leave the weapons in their place...for he spoke not only of them, but of him self.

Chronoclis Pheonox's Story

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