Description

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Gro'chal Deathweaver
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The Necro Lord
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Personal Information
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Full Name
Gro'chal Deathweaver

Description
Subject 72 is an extremely dangerous individual that is wanted for numerous accounts of murder, attempt of murder, arson, psychological and physical torture, genocide, attempt of genocide, terrorism, and necromancy. He is adept at manipulating and transferring heat energy with his mind in the form of fire or ice. The subject is also a master of psychic powers, shadow magic, and necromancy. The suspect is believed to be the leader of a violent and aggressive military regime. If you attempt to apprehend the fugitive do so with heavily armed and excessive back up. Do NOT underestimate him, his powers, and his forces. You have been warned. There are numerous high paying bounties on the capture or death of this individual.

Age:
Undetermined

Gender:
Male

Race/Main:
Naacani

Race/Sub:
Undead

Honorifics|Titles|Nicknames
The Necro Lord
The Dark One
The Deathweaver
Bearer of a Thousand Souls
Master of the Ancient Dead
"Subject 72"

Sexual Orientation:
Heterosexual

Birthplace:
Unknown
.
Date of Birth:
Unknown

Marking|Tattoos|Piercings:
There is a mark on the back of his neck that resembles a white laughing skull, and there is also a burn on his left hand in the shape of a triangle along with several other strange markings

Height:
9' 7"

Weight
897 lbs.

Physical Condition:
Very muscular, yet practically so.

Current Residence
Unknown

Former Residence
Unknown

Family/Relatives:
Deceased

Friends/Comrades:
None

Enemies
Too many to name

Rivals

Organizations/Tribes/Clans:
The Deathweaver Clan

Former Affiliations:

Disabilities:
His vocal cords are not capable of speech beyond his native language

Personality:

Likes:
The subject enjoys causing pain, maiming, mutilating, and killing others - especially those who attempt his capture and arrest, and those who he feels has betrayed him. He is extremely violent

Dislikes:
Fish, being betrayed, and those who wish to capture him

Psychological Condition:
Sadistic, paranoid, genocidal psychopath that has been diagnosed with schizophrenia

Alignment:
Neutral Evil with Chaotic tendencies

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Equipment
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:Attire:
Subject 72 is known to disguise himself in various outfits, including a large black trench coat and wide brimmed hat.
:Protection:
The subject sometimes wears black plate armor that is much stronger than it appears
:Weapon(s):
A long black staff with a demon's skull mounted on the top, and a runed stone scimitar. He is also known to carry two strange alien blast pistols.
:Accessories/Misc:

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|Abilities|Traits|Racial|
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Pyromancy/Pyrokinesis

WARNING! Subject 72 has the ability to create and manipulate fire and generate heat in a substance, area, or object with his mind and will. Those who pursue the subject are likely to receive heavy burns or death.

Cryomancy/Cryokinesis

WARNING! Subject 72 has the ability to remove heat from a surface, substance, area, or object, causing it to freeze over or for a condensed blizzard to form. Those who pursue the subject are likely to receive heavy burns or death.

Psionics

WARNING! Subject 72 is very adept in psychic abilities, including telepathy, psychokinesis, mind reading/control, and creating powerful illusions. He is fond of utilizing fear against his enemies. Extreme caution is recommended.

Necromancy

Subject 72 is very adept in raising the dead, summoning spirits, and taking control of other undead. He is a very powerful necromancer and noctomancer, and should not be underestimated.

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Current History
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Past History
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So begins...

Gro'chal Deathweaver's Story

Seen 270 Times • Page 3 of 14 • 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6 ... 14

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Gambit's Bar

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Character Portrait: Gro'chal Deathweaver

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#2012-08-21 20:17:37, as written by TheNoremac42

Sosrioser would then see a creature of darkness climb on top of him. It was a living shadow with claw-like fingers the length of long daggers. Its maw was bestial and lined with several rows of razor sharp teeth. A long slimy purple tongue draped out of the mouth while glowing red bored into him with a gaze with was sadistic and murderous.

"Master says I can play now..." it cackled before racking its claws across his chest. Everyone would see the fabric part effortlessly in three bloodied stripes.

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#2012-08-21 20:32:15, as written by TheNoremac42

The creature laughed as the darkness forming its body swirled and writhed. It attempted to grab the gun, crush it, and tear it out of the man's grip. Then it would rake its claws across his chest yet again before eying his abdomen hungrily. A glob of acid-like saliva fell from its maw as it licked its lips.

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#2012-08-21 20:45:51, as written by TheNoremac42

"Nightgaunt! Heel!" [/b]Gro'chal[/b] growled at the shadow creature. "Killing him would be a waste... Some other time perhaps..."

With a growl, the shadow creature - Nightgaunt - snapped its maw just an inch from Sosrioser before vanishing in a puff of smoke.

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#2012-08-21 20:55:57, as written by TheNoremac42

The trench-cloaked figure turned and glared at Cryoface through the concealing shadow of his black fedora. "Do not mistake my actions as consenting to your request." he calmly said with his deep, dark, and intelligent voice. "I simply do not wish for my pets to permanently break their toys when they still possess potential use."

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#2012-08-21 21:16:14, as written by TheNoremac42

The building quietly groaned and creaked as if effected by some powerful unseen force. "Maybe some patrons enjoy making a gory mess, hmm?" he chuckled darkly before rising from his seat and heading toward the door.

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#2012-08-23 07:07:38, as written by TheNoremac42

A slow agonizing creak resonated through the room as the front door opened on its own accord. Thunder shrieked and shook the building's foundation to its knees as lightning illuminated the silhouette of a dark figure that stood in the doorway. Eerie glowing blue eyes flashed from within the concealing shadow of a black fedora and trench coat. The roar of fierce rain echoed from behind the figure.

The cloaked man slowly and deliberately strode into the room. Water droplets formed small rivers and reservoirs as thick black boots hit the floor with a series of thuds. By all appearances, this was an ordinary man seeking shelter, a drink, and a hot meal. However, those more attuned to the spiritual and arcane would sense a tremendous amount of power that resonated from him. Those who listened closely would hear subtle yet dark whispers that echoed from the being. Dark power, of fire and ice, fear and shadow, death and chaos, clung to the man. An aura of fiery rage, dark hatred, cold sorrow, and endless suffering flowed from him.

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#2012-08-23 07:17:13, as written by TheNoremac42

With the same steady and intimidating stride, the trench-coated man made his way to an empty stool on the far side of the counter. The seat creaked beneath his weight. His shadowed face slowly rotated in each direction as he searched for a barkeeper. As he did so, his mind wandered. But not into ordinary things like the game this Sunday, or a daughter's ballet recital, or what he had to pick up from the store on the way home so his wife wouldn't nag him all night. No, his mind found a much more entertaining pastime - probing its cousins. The man's consciousness slowly spread outward like an invisible fog, and it peered into the minds and souls of every tenant within the building like a hobo looting a dump, or a book-worm meandering through a library. However, it didn't waste time with minute things like thoughts and embarrassing secrets.

It sought after their fears.

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#2012-08-23 07:40:24, as written by TheNoremac42

The trench-cloaked figure smiled beneath the concealing shadow of his fedora. No fear? Poppycock... There was always fear, lurking within the darkest corners of one's heart. Slowly, the man placed a gloved finger on the counter and repeatedly traced a figure-eight symbol onto the wood.

Before John Titus would speak again, he would suddenly feel a tingling sensation at the back of his throat, as if a confused trapped spider was trying to make sense of its surroundings. The sensation would have been ancient to him, and an ill omen.

Sickness.

As he did this, Gro'chal attempted to delve deeper into David's mind. He focused on the painful memories and scarred wounds, and subtly began to dig.

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#2012-08-23 07:51:20, as written by TheNoremac42

Gro'chal silently chuckled at the man's reaction. He focused further on the woman, and when the man turned around, he would see her standing before him. There was a sadistic evil twinkle in her eye as her mouth malformed into an unnaturally wide smile.

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#2012-08-23 08:09:22, as written by TheNoremac42

"Death finds ALL in time..." said a thought that would seemed to have surfaced from within John's own consciousness.

As the tiny robot hovered toward Gro'chal, it would suddenly implode as if crushed by a ten ton weight from every direction at once. The remains floated gently to the ground.

As David threatened the imaginary woman, the illusion would only laugh darkly at him. In actuality however, his weapon and fiery tongue would be pointed directly at Azaria.

Oh this was so much fun!

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#2012-08-23 08:49:00, as written by TheNoremac42

Gro'chal silently snickered. "Death is but a transformation... An ascension from something weak and frail... to something much more powerful. Immortality is the destination, but there are numerous roads. Some scorched by light, and others swaddled by darkness. Fear... is a powerful weapon, and a path to reverence." the voice whispered. "There is no true distinction between reality and fabrication." it added.

Suddenly, every light bulb in the room would explode, sending sparks and shards of glass in every direction. Darkness fell upon the room like a thick blanket as every light dimmed. However, a dim blue glow faintly illuminated everyone's face.

Two ghostly glowing blue orbs hovered just above the windowsill on the opposite side of the window.

"Maahhhhhhmmeeeeee..." echoed the voice of a small boy. "Maahhhhhmmeeeeee... Where are you, mommy?"

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#2012-08-23 09:02:25, as written by TheNoremac42

The two glowing blue orbs slowly drifted towards the door. "Mummy?... Is that you mummy? Mummy where are you?"

There was a light tapping at the door. "Mmmuuuuuummmeeee..."

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#2012-08-23 09:17:37, as written by TheNoremac42

"Demon?! Hahahahaha! It is not a being of brimstone that you speak to..." whispered a voice from the darkness. "... but one of death and darkness, chaos and feat, rage and hatred, sorrow and suffering. I found nothing in Life... So I chose Death."

"Mummy?" said the boy's voice again. "Mummy... Please let me in! It's so cold out here... and dark. I'm scared, mummy!" he whimpered softly.

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#2012-08-23 09:33:26, as written by TheNoremac42

"Ohh... but how do you know?" the voice chuckled darkly. "How do you know what is real... and what is unreal?"

A low snarl resonated from behind the door, followed by the terrified scream of the child. "Mummy! Don't leave me! It's gonna get me!"

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#2012-08-23 09:46:00, as written by TheNoremac42

Standing in the doorway was a short, skinny, gangly humanoid figure. It stood about waist height, and its body was formed from withing and swirling darkness. The being's head slowly turned as two ghostly glowing blue orbs scanned the room before they fell on Nina. "Mummy? Is that you?" he slowly walked toward her. Claw like fingers twitched slightly on the skinny arms that dangled at its sides.

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#2012-08-23 09:52:04, as written by TheNoremac42

The creature would steadily get closer and closer as it outstretched its clawed hand to touch her. If it succeeded, the agony of ten thousand eternally tormented souls would wash through her. Then, it would abruptly vanish along with the trench-cloaked figure and the blanket of darkness.

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#2012-08-23 20:54:19, as written by TheNoremac42

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#2012-08-23 21:06:48, as written by TheNoremac42

With the same steady and intimidating stride, the trench-coated man made his way to an empty stool on the far side of the counter. The seat creaked beneath his weight. His shadowed face slowly rotated in each direction as he searched for a barkeeper. Gro'chal's penetrating gaze briefly found Savannah. His mind wandered, but not into ordinary things like the game this Sunday, or a daughter's ballet recital, or what he had to pick up from the store on the way home so his wife wouldn't nag him all night. No, his mind found a much more entertaining pastime - probing its cousins. The man's consciousness slowly spread outward like an invisible fog, and it peered into the minds and souls of every tenant within the building like a hobo looting a dump, or a book-worm meandering through a library. However, it didn't waste time with minute things like thoughts and embarrassing secrets.

It sought after their fears.

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Gambit's Bar

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#2012-08-23 21:24:07, as written by TheNoremac42

As the dark thoughts were slowly shoveled out of their hiding holes, the psychic space pirate grinned wickedly beneath the shadow of the black fedora. Vampires... injection... betrayal... All so juicy. Perhaps a concoction was in order?

Gro'chal then discretely placed his gloved hand on the counter and traced a figure-eight into the wood. A moment later, Fetu would see Varius step through the door. Two glowing red orbs replaced his eyes while his face contorted into a sadistic grin. Gripped in his hand was a large syringe.

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#2012-08-23 21:32:06, as written by TheNoremac42

"Just a present from your father..." the Imaginary Varius replied in a dark and almost demonic voice. He slowly walked toward Fetu with a stride that was both deliberate and murderous.

Seen 270 Times • Page 3 of 14 • 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6 ... 14