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Damionell Balafor

"Ask me how I am!!"

0 · 232 views · located in The Arena

a character in “The Multiverse”, originally authored by Tearen Wover, as played by RolePlayGateway

Description

Theme Song: Chaos - Sierra

BIOLOGICAL INFORMATION:

Name: Damionell, Son of Balafor
Aliases: Damionell

Age: 58
Race: Minotaur
Sex: Male
Meta: Natural Cunning
Disabilities: Severe Temper, Illiterate
Height: 9'07"
Weight: 896 lb. 8 oz.

STATISTICAL INFORMATION

Alliances: House of Beraltak
Known Accomplices: Trally-Dao, Marlish
Alignment: Chaotic Neutral
SE Status: Nomad
Religious Beliefs: The Way of Minos
Assets: Raw Strength, Hammer, Armor
Skills: Drinking, Smashing, Eating

Damionell is a fantastic sight to behold, standing almost ten feet tall, this hulking minotaur immediately conveys a sense of irresistible power. His fur is a dark, creamy tan, with darker bronze patches running down his back. His face and body carry countless scars and marks of battle, something he prides himself on. His horns are sharp and curve upwards and forwards, having been bred for great horns. They are capped in iron bracings. Most of the time, Damionell wears a shimmering, ornately crafted suit of mithril armor, that has a slightly indigo sheen to it. His hands are almost four and a half regular human hands across, tipped in dark claws when he isn't wearing his gauntlets.

Personality

Damionell is, in short, a total barbarian. As a minotaur, his naturally chaotic disposition is unchained and flowing freely at all times. If he sees food, he eats it. If he sees an opponent, he destroys them. Acting completely on impulse and desire, it is impossible to control him unless a payment is promised...a payment that he couldn't otherwise take from you. Damionell respects only brute strength, vindication, and cleverness. While Damionell is indeed somewhat rash, he is exceedingly clever, able to solve problems intuitively. At times of rest, he enjoys hearty food and good company, preferably outdoors, but anywhere full of life and energy will do. Sleeping only when absolutely necessary, Damionell has a marked love of life, and is definitely enjoying every second of his.

He is rather pompous of himself, and takes any violation of his honor and respect as a personal attack. He responds to any intense situation the only way he likes, destroying, ripping and slashing everything around him to pieces. He is well known for running straight through walls when in a full rage. Indeed, when fully angered, Damionell is inconsolable when infuriated, and will not cease his enraged destruction until incapacitated or otherwise fatigued. Or until whatever around him is completely annihilated. Whichever comes first.

Equipment

Damionell is well armed in a variety of old world weapons. Heavy, brutish iron is the only metal he wields, and he loves it. On him, he carries both a massive double handed sword, an extremely heavy hammer named Breh-Aht, and a wicked looking minotaurian weapon called a LongClaw. It is essentially four, thick flesh hooks melded together on a central bladed shaft with barbed points and a spear like barbed head. The handle of this weapon his attached to a long rope so that it can either be wielded as a mace or as a ranged grappling device. He wields all three with deadly force, capable of taking down a full grown tree with any of them...as well as his bare hands, if need be. His satchel contains a variety of other tools and survival equipment, the most notable being wooden stakes, holy items, silver weapons, and other mystical paraphernalia.

However, he is rather proud of his armor. It is an enchanted adamantine suit of plate armor, enchanted so that, while it is indeed sturdy and protective, weighs absolutely nothing. It allows him to move freely and at his top speed even while nearly untouchable.

Finally, his horns have reinforcing iron bands and sharpened steel points on the tips. He likes these to clobber things too. It should be noted his hooves have a similar treatment, being shoed with spiked and rigged to avoid slippage and help with charges.

History

The minotaur Damionell was born the son of Balafor on the Isle Minos. His heifer mother was Hoonlan, a valued hand maiden of Beraltak, King of the Western shores. Damionell grew up learning how to fight and fend for himself among Beraltak's ranks of minotaurian soldiers, becoming steeped in the island lore and life. He became proud to know what it was to be a minotaur, and revels in all things physical and strength oriented. During his fourty-fifth winter, after returning from a skirmish against an enemy army, Damionell found himself feeling suffocated and bound by the island. He ached to leave the labyrinthian cities and stride among the towering realms of the humans, spreading the word of minotaurian strength and honor. Beraltak granted him this privilege after Damionell bested the king in unarmed combat, a fight that nearly killed them both. After a month of recovery, Damionell was suited up with the finest of minotaurian armors and weaponry, and turned loose on the world. He walks the lands of Si'Ven to this day, finding his way through the world with his two other friends.

So begins...

Damionell Balafor's Story

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There came the sound of profoundly loud hoofbeats outside the doors to the Dwarven Stout, the thundering of which seemed to be louder than was, frankly, necessary. With a brutish shove, the door to the establishment flew inward, banging against the inner wall and denting a wall-mounted candle. With a loud, curt snort, Damionell took a few sniffs of the establishment before grunting moodily and trundling inwards, stooping slightly so that his horns wouldn't scraped against the ceiling. Damned dwarfy-things and their short-ass ceilings. Better off down in their tunnels eating bugs or whatever.

With an irate flick of his tail, the minotaur took one of the sturdier stone looking seats at the bar and barked a simple, loud order.

"Ale. Big!"

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Damionell was far too busy quaffing his ale to bother responding to the puny elf-thing.

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"Blast your fairy tongue, why can't the damn horse just learn common?" Damionell muttered into his fourth mug.

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"What's for food here?" Damionell blurted out, wiping a curtain of foam off of his meaty lips.

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"I'll have the spine tail. Raw. And if you've kept the spines around, I'll have those too." Damionell said, stifling a belch as he did so. "Goat. Money." Damionell said, flicking Trally on the ear.

The setting changes from The Dwarven Stout to Gambit's Bar

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There came the sound of distant thudding outside the bar. As the sound grew louder, drinks would ripple, lanterns would shake, and finally, the air would quake with the resounding whoosh of inward flying doors. Statuesque in height, dangerous in body mass, and foul in odor, Damionell the Minotaur thundered back into the bar. He panted softly through his visor, tufts of cream colored fur falling away from him as he was molting for spring. He took a deep breath of the air, sniffing hard on all the weaklings assembled before issuing an irate snort.

With loud hoofbeats, he trudged towards the bar counter with a dour look beneath the visor of his helmet. Luckily, the automated service had seen him coming from a mile away, and as he sat at one of the sturdier seats of the bar, placed an oversized flagon of sweet mead from the summer prior before him. Unceremoniously lifting his helmet from his head and casting it to the floor with a loud bang, he immediately began to quaff the sweet liquid.

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The minotaur took in all the normal chatter about his presence with all the patience one might expect of him. He turned around slowly to eyeball Markuss with a wild, brass colored eye, lips drawn into a tight scowl. "Narnia? I know nothin' of any Narnia, but I do know that tone, human-thing. I'd not use it 'round me." he said in a low voice, which was still pretty loud. As he spoke, however, he noticed the fleet-footed, tiny form of

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...form of Lily scampering across the table. He snorted once and looked at Markuss again. "...you did sumthin' wot made Lily anxious?" he asked, eyes narrowing dangerously.

The setting changes from Gambit's Bar to The Arena

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The normal late night crowd of the arena was gathered about the lower areas of the ring, currently laid out to resemble a large, slightly padded mat with a steel cage surrounding it. Betters, bloodthirsty onlookers, and delinquents alike sat about drinking heavily exchanging crude funny money as the two last combatants were escorted and dragged from the ring respectively. As the new catsassin to the field, there was the usual rash of cheers and jeers as people called their bets upon the small feline.

The sound of thudding, however, sent everyone into a hushed stupor. Damionell the Minotaur lumbered onto the field, dressed only in leather leggings, the rest of his muscular mass bared proudly to the masses. Tufts of his cream colored fur fell off here and there as he was still molting for spring. In both of his hands he hefted his trusty great-hammer, though pads had been attached to either end of it's head to soften any otherwise mortal blows.

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Damionell was taken aback for a fraction of a second, as he was the one used to opening with a charge. It was a welcome change of pace however, and as the tiny cat-thing sped towards him he grinned with sharp teeth and rumbled "Pity, sum'mon told me I'd have a real fight t'night." That said as Bo drew closer, the massive hulk stepped to the side and attempted to snatch her by the tail if she began to overshoot.

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Damionell lurched back as, in the blink of an eye, the cat-thing flew at him with a clawed attack. Despite him being faster from the lack of armor, he still could not out-maneuver the agile catsassin. Thankfully, a mass of his winter coat still sat matted on his chest, causing a few of the claws to cut only think fur, though a few did manage to nick his flesh. Damionell grunted softly as he leapt back from the attack before throwing his hammer with the rear momentum and following through with a wide back handed sweep, spinning around once.

While it was not a particularly aimed attack, the intent being to force the cat to retreat, if Bo WAS anywhere within three or so feet of him at the time she was in distinct danger of being sent flying with the swift blow.

Setting

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Character Portrait: Thanatos Necromortis Character Portrait: Atsume Kinto Character Portrait: June Blackwelder Character Portrait: Evie Gibson Character Portrait: Torin Ilium Character Portrait: Torin Illium
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#, as written by lml55
Character Portrait: Tento Flare Tento Flare says,
 “ hello ”

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Character Portrait: Thanatos Necromortis Character Portrait: Atsume Kinto Character Portrait: June Blackwelder Character Portrait: Evie Gibson Character Portrait: Torin Ilium Character Portrait: Torin Illium
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#, as written by lml55
Character Portrait: Tento Flare Tento Flare says,
 “ man you would expect a lot more people here ”

Setting

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Character Portrait: Thanatos Necromortis Character Portrait: Atsume Kinto Character Portrait: June Blackwelder Character Portrait: Evie Gibson Character Portrait: Torin Ilium Character Portrait: Torin Illium
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Marcus steps into the arena, watching. He's restless for a fight, tapping his baton against his armored thigh. He waits for one of the many people to prepare for a match, so he can approach them and ask them for a fight.
In the meantime, he's going to do a full check of his equipment.