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Daiden Roach

A disturbed and unfortunately highly trained boy...

0 · 173 views · located in The Infinite Void

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

Description

Name: Daiden Roach

Species: Half Human, Half Elf

Age: 19 Years Old

Height: 5"11

Weight and Body Type: 160 lbs. Daiden appears to be just thin at first glance, but his body is as hard as rock.

Skin color: He is fairly pale but is able to tan.

Hair color: Light blond

Eye color: Light Blue

Hair Style: He has very thin hair, but he has a lot of it - it is generally quite messy and unruly

Facial Hair: None

Tattoos/Markings: Daiden bears no tattoos or symbols, but his whole torso and back area are riddled with scars, big and small. There is a single, prominent scar that runs across the bridge of his nose.

Facial Features: By all means he is a handsome young man, but he is not fond of emotions or the facial expressions that go with them. He has a boyish, but sharply angles jawline. Daiden has a long straight nose and big, light blue eyes.

Skills: Daiden is an extremely adept martial artist, able to kill with his hands in a second flat. He has also been trained to use various weapons including, but not limited to, swords, daggers, axes, nun-chuks, and polearms. He carries no weapon though, as his kind, the Lethani, focus primarily on hand-to-hand warfare.

{Clothing}

Daiden is usually found wearing a plain, dark grey, long sleeve cotton shirt on top and black jeans below. He wears only a simple pair of tattered black shoes.

Personality

Daiden is quite the broken individual. Since he was three, he had been under the training and upbringing of a vicious mercenary group called the Lethani, or more widely known Adem. It is strictly for half-human, half-elves like himself. Since leaving them, he has maintained the qualities of each of their members. He speaks little and does his best to bear no emotions; but time in the city and those around him combined with his own teenage tendencies are starting to pull that apart slightly.

He will approach others, but is extremely cautious when doing so. He speaks in a calm, easy voice that betrays the murderer inside of him.

Equipment

He carries a small black nylon knapsack that hangs behind him; this carries a small tin flask for water, a journal and pen, and a coin or two.

So begins...

Daiden Roach's Story

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The blond, messy-haired teenager nimbly opened the door of Gambit's and silently closed it behind him. From first site, the lad looked fairly normal except for a dark scar that contrasted with his pale skin that stretched across the bridge of his nose. His bright, crystalline blue eyes pranced around the room in such an intelligent way that it was wise to second guess his age.

But he was, in all actuality, only seventeen years old - but there was definitely something very different between him and other teenagers. Maybe it was his posture, such a straight back, but still very agile-looking - or perhaps it was his expressionless, albeit slightly charming face. In any case, he was no normal teenager, but being half-elf, half-human didn't necessarily have anything to do with it.

He wore a simple grey, long-sleeved cotton thermal shirt on top and black jeans down below. On his feet were a simple and slightly tattered pair of black shoes and from his back hung a black nylon knapsack. Again, at first glance, a normal, if a bit on the poor side, kid.

He took his time weaving in and out through the tables, headed for the bar. The boy moved cautiously, but was very surefooted. A few tables before reaching the bar, he suddenly changed his mind, took off the knapsack, placed it on a table, and then sat down in one of the surrounding chairs. He took a quick look around, idly wondering if there were any other noteworthy patrons.

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The blond, messy-haired teenager nimbly opened the door of Gambit's and silently closed it behind him. From first site, the lad looked fairly normal except for a dark scar that contrasted with his pale skin that stretched across the bridge of his nose. His bright, crystalline blue eyes pranced around the room in such an intelligent way that it was wise to second guess his age.

But he was, in all actuality, only seventeen years old - but there was definitely something very different between him and other teenagers. Maybe it was his posture, such a straight back, but still very agile-looking - or perhaps it was his expressionless, albeit slightly charming face. In any case, he was no normal teenager, but being half-elf, half-human didn't necessarily have anything to do with it.

He wore a simple grey, long-sleeved cotton thermal shirt on top and black jeans down below. On his feet were a simple and slightly tattered pair of black shoes and from his back hung a black nylon knapsack. Again, at first glance, a normal, if a bit on the poor side, kid.

He took his time weaving in and out through the tables, headed for the bar. The boy moved cautiously, but was very surefooted. A few tables before reaching the bar, he suddenly changed his mind, took off the knapsack, placed it on a table, and then sat down in one of the surrounding chairs. He took a quick look around, idly wondering if there were any other noteworthy patrons.

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The blond, messy-haired teenager nimbly opened the door to Gambit's and closed it silently behind him. The young man looked thin, but if anyone were to touch him, they'd find his body to be rock solid. He looked like quite the normal teenager apart from the dark scar that ran across the bridge of his nose, contrasting his pale skin, as well as his light blue eyes that seemed to be much more wise than most kids.

He wore a simple long sleeved, grey thermal shirt on top and a pair of faded black jeans on bottom. On his feet were a simple pair of black and slightly tattered shoes. Hanging from his back was a black nylon knapsack - apart from this, he carried nothing. There was still something different about this kid though - maybe it was his straight posture, though agile frame, or maybe his expressionless, albeit slightly charming face.

In any case, he moved through the bar now, very aware of his surroundings, headed towards the bar. His footsteps were cautious, though very surefooted at the same time. He gave no air of condescendence, only confidence. A few tables before the bar, he changed his mind, unslung the knapsack from his back and took took a seat at the table, simultaneously resting the knapsack on the tabletop.

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The blond, lean teenager slipped quietly down the stairs. His dark cotton long-sleeved shirt slightly hung off of him and his black jeans were less than fitting. The tattered black shoes he wore didn't seem to have too much life left in them, and the scar across the upper-bridge of his nose stuck out like a sore thumb against his pale skin, and his expressionless face made him seem older than he appeared.

He took stock of the other patrons, only two it seemed, and silently sat down at a table, his posture very straight, but agile-looking. After a couple of moments he began to order dinner with the built-in monitor on the table.

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He typed in the order for the bar's daily chicken dish and then simply sat there in his chair, looking to and fro with his light blue eyes. It was only a matter of time before his gaze fell upon the other two, the male's antics coming off as a bit strange to him. He absentmindedly began to quietly tap the table with one finger.

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It wasn't too long before his food reached him; the teenager was motionless, a blank expression on his face as the waiter set the food down in front of him. As soon as he left, the boy took his fork and knife and with an eerie silence, began to cut up his chicken and eat it piece by piece. Meanwhile, his eyes drifted here and there, a few times resting on the strange scene at hand, and then to the young lady who had just entered - but his eyes were never on one thing or person for too long.

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He noticed the girl looking back at him and he immediately ceased eating, wiped his mouth with a nearby napkin, and simply sat there, almost as if he was waiting for something to happen. His long, messy blond hair fell in front of his blue eyes, but he made no move to help that. In fact, he made no moves whatsoever; he was statue-still, and whisper-quiet.

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He wasn't quite sure what to think of the sudden approach, but he quietly shook his head and gestured with a single hand toward a chair across from himself. It was apparent that he wasn't one to spare words easily.

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He briefly looked over to where she had pointed, but then returned his gaze back to his company. "No," he spoke quietly, almost like he didn't want to be heard, "it seems strange enough." The blond teenager was quiet for a good, long moment before asking, "Who are you, if I may ask?" His eyes never broke from her face, and he watched her with such an intensity that one may begin to feel uncomfortable.

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The blond teenager shifted his gaze to where the girl had directed his attention, and then returned his eyes to his company. After a couple of moments he said, "I don't know...something strange, I think he's a vampire." He seemed to choose his words very carefully, and apparently he didn't use more words than he needed. After a slightly long silence he finally asked, "Who are you, if I may ask?" He kept his light blue eyes on her with such an intensity that would make most feel uncomfortable, unsafe even.

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"It's nice to meet you," he replied, making no unnecessary movements. After a moment of thought he added, "My name is Daiden." She responded to his explanation of the other patrons' situation rather dismissively, he noticed, and he began to really wonder just why she had come to the table in the first place. He looked like a normal enough teenager, the dark scar across the bridge of his nose stuck out a bit, but that was it really. "Can...I help you with something, Luna?"

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"I see," he replied simply, never truly looking away at this point. "I am well, thank you for asking." Daiden spoke as if he weren't used to it, as if it were something foreign, which it really was. His eyes narrowed a fraction and he asked, "Are you okay though...you look...sad."

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"I'm sorry to hear that, but I'm sure he'll arrive soon," he said with more certainty than actually lingered in his brain. The more he looked her over, the more comfortable he became with her presence - she seemed to a bit estranged like himself.

"Yes, I am fine," he answered with the slightest of nods. "Why do you ask?"

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Still looking at her, Daiden pushed the half-eaten plate away from himself and replied, "Yes...I am human. But I am also an elf. I am both." His expressionless face aggravated most people, you could never really know what he was thinking or feeling. "I am just...not like most other people." With no sense of embarrassment or hesitation he asked, "And what are you?"

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He eyed every one of her movements, his eyes more than fast enough to follow the knife the had thrown. If he had been in more familiar company, he would have frowned at her statement, "I'm not sure that is something you should...go around telling people."

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His eyes never left her, not for a moment, and he only answered once she sat back down. "I am running away from some very dangerous people," was his extremely vague reply. She had stated her quick comfort around him, but he wasn't so quick to do the same.

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The question slightly took him surprise and his head leaned to one side ever so slightly. What did she mean, what did he mean? Daiden decided to go with, "Well...some people want to kill me...and I do not want to kill them. So I must run in order to avoid conflict. This is a big city, many places to hide." He watched her sharpen the knife and glanced at the man who had walked in before returning his icy gaze back to Aika.

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"Hi," was the quiet greeting he gave to James and then he returned his attention back to Aika. "That sounds fairly bad...is she in this city?" Daiden had a great many talents, but communicating with other intelligent life was not one of them.

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"Daiden," the blond teenager replied, his face as expressionless as always. The boy only looked at James's hand, as he didn't know what to do with it - he was not aware of the social gestures of the normal population. He had been secluded for so long...

So instead of having the man stand there at his side empty-handed, he took the fork from his half-finished plate and placed it in the man's hand before turning back to Luna. "Well," he replied, trying to pick out the right words, "I hope she doesn't kill you and you survive."

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Quietly left the table and stalked upsatairs.

The setting changes from gambits-bar to The Bluff

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The blond, messy-haired teenager slowly climbed up the face of the cliff. If someone were watching him closely, they would see that although his progress was slow, it wasn't random - he kept up a constant pace, painstakingly finding new handholds and footholds every few seconds. He had only been climbing for a measly seven minutes, and he was already near the top of the cliff.

There was a thin sheet of sweat pressed over his eerily expressionless face. He moved like a robot, and made all of the facial features of a blank piece of paper. His attire consisted of his normal long-sleeved cotton dark thermal shirt, worn black jeans, and tattered black shoes. Other than his clothes, he carried no gear whatsoever, not even gloves for his calloused hands that were working so hard to keep him alive.

After a few more minutes of this exhausting climb, he reached the top of the cliff and let go a small sigh of accomplishment, no expression ever entering his face. Instead of climbing up though, he merely hung there like a bat, leaving his feet to dangle as he held onto the cliff with his bare hands, slowly catching his breath. This was no normal boy - anybody could realize that. As he caught his breath, he began to listen to the sounds of the night and wildlife, turning his head to see Wing City far below and behind him.

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The blond, messy-haired teenager slowly climbed up the face of the cliff. If someone were watching him closely, they would see that although his progress was slow, it wasn't random - he kept up a constant pace, painstakingly finding new handholds and footholds every few seconds. He had only been climbing for a measly seven minutes, and he was already near the top of the cliff.

There was a thin sheet of sweat pressed over his eerily expressionless face. He moved like a robot, and made all of the facial features of a blank piece of paper. His attire consisted of his normal long-sleeved cotton dark thermal shirt, worn black jeans, and tattered black shoes. Other than his clothes, he carried no gear whatsoever, not even gloves for his calloused hands that were working so hard to keep him alive.

After a few more minutes of this exhausting climb, he reached the top of the cliff and let go a small sigh of accomplishment, no expression ever entering his face. Instead of climbing up though, he merely hung there like a bat, leaving his feet to dangle as he held onto the cliff with his bare hands, slowly catching his breath. This was no normal boy - anybody could realize that. As he caught his breath, he began to listen to the sounds of the night and wildlife, turning his head to see Wing City far below and behind him.

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The slightest sign of expression, his eyebrows pushing a fraction closer together, appeared on his face. He hadn't heard the male sitting there - was he breathing? After a couple of moments, Daiden easily hoisted himself onto the edge of the cliff and stared out into the city with his light blue eyes, very aware of the being behind him. Letting his legs swing gently over the cliff, he spoke in a composed tone, though awkwardly, as if he wasn't used to using his voice, "None of true value. Though I would have a question for you, if you don't mind." He was quiet again, picking his brains for the right words, "Why would...you want to kill me?"

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"No," he replied, not a hint of fear in his voice, though perhaps a faint recognition that he was dealing with a being perhaps ten times stronger than himself. "I'm not purely human, and I suspect you haven't been human for a while." Daiden remained oddly motionless throughout this small conversation, but he turned his head ever so slightly for his next question, "How long were you waiting for me here, Old One?" The title wasn't meant as an insult, on the contrary he toned the question so that it would convey vague respect.

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Quick as a blink, the young man was standing and staring the vampire in his rapidly crimson-becoming eyes. Daiden's face was completely blank, but his eyes gave off all of the expression in the world - a hard look deep in concentration and an eery sense of purpose. No, this boy was not normal at all; his posture was unbelievably straight, but he still managed to look as agile as a cat. There was a dark scar that ran across the bridge of his nose, and this stuck out like a sore thumb against his pale skin. "I am not delaying you. You could have killed me while I was vulnerable, but you did not. You could have killed me while I was climbing, but you did not. You could have killed me in the middle of this sentence...but you haven't." He shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other, making it apparent that no emotion would be shown in his features, but his body language was louder than a concert. Daiden took one step, and then another, eventually beginning to slowly circle the vampire, "What is your name?"