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 5 of 14 • 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8 ... 14

Setting

Dark Woods

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Character Portrait: Gro'chal Deathweaver

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#2012-09-08 19:25:07, as written by TheNoremac42

"What is your purpose here, whelp?" an unknown voice whispered from seemingly every direction. Several other voices, vague and otherworldly, joined with it in a soft rumble of unintelligible gibberish. Pairs of blue flames materialized within the shadows far away from the clearing.

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Dark Woods

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#2012-09-08 19:37:42, as written by TheNoremac42

"Perhaps we have similar goals then..." The Voice continued. "... but you trespass upon guarded territory - upon sacred ground." As it spoke, the flames slowly drew closer, revealing the silhouettes of several dark shambling figures. Lows groans resonated from them.

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Dark Woods

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#2012-09-08 19:55:48, as written by TheNoremac42

The Voice laughed darkly. "Why would I not?" it resonated from behind her. A dark figure clad in a black trench coat and fedora stood a few yards away from Abbie. Shadow concealed his face as he folded gloved hands behind his back. 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.

"I was not given such courtesy..."

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Dark Woods

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#2012-09-08 20:13:37, as written by TheNoremac42

The shadows within the forest drew closer. They were everywhere! The man merely laughed and released a low sigh. "I tried to forgive. I tried to give the world a second chance, but did it cease in its aggression? No... Through my entire existence I have been cursed, insulted, mocked, ridiculed, beaten, and betrayed. I found nothing in Life... So I have chosen Death."

As he spoke, images of memories would flash before the horse's eyes. It was a childhood, filled with chains, drunken beatings, eternal suffering, eternal sorrow, dark hatred, and fiery rage. Death filled it to the brim. An image seen through the crack of a cupboard, of the shadow of a womanly figure being impaled by several spears and blades, burned into her mind.

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Dark Woods

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#2012-09-08 20:30:55, as written by TheNoremac42

Then suddenly, as quickly as the whispers began, they stopped. The man and his terrifying presence was gone, but an echo of shambling bones remained. It approached the cowering form of Abbie and stopped but inches away. Sinister breathing resonated from the air above her.

"Masssta ssaysss not kill you now..." another voice spoke. It was raspy and cracked. "He know better ussse for you. Run. Give Terransss warning. Tell them that ssomething even Death itssself fearsss hasss come to thair world..."

A talisman fell to the ground near her head. It bore a white, horned, laughing skull that was consumed by black flames. Blood-red tears dripped from its empty eye sockets.

Setting

Dark Woods

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#2012-09-08 20:43:17, as written by TheNoremac42

When she looked up, she would see a figure clad in dark leather armor, black as night. A hood shrouded its entire face except for two blue flames that burned where its eyes would be. Two sheathed scimitars were strapped to his belt, where thin gloved fingers twitched nearby. It craned its head at an odd angle and looked down at the girl.

"Then warn them of incoming dangersss... A ssstorm is coming. Tidesss of darknesss draw near..." it said before shuffling off into the trees. The talisman still laid on the ground.

The setting changes from Dark Woods to Gambit's Bar

Setting

Gambit's Bar

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#2012-09-23 07:40:17, 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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Gambit's Bar

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#2012-09-23 07:46:24, 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.

Setting

Gambit's Bar

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#2012-09-23 08:01:08, as written by TheNoremac42

As the man's mind began its thorough and steady probe across the room, it nearly tripped into a most... interesting mind. It was of both orderly chaos and chaotic order - an endless labyrinth of madness that led both everywhere and no where. With caution, he tread further into its recesses.

Another mind, scarred with the weathering of time and bruises of the past, caught his attention. It seemed vaguely familiar. Had he probed this mind before, or was it similar to his? He stretched out a gloved hand, and a bottle of beer floated from a random shelf and into his grip. The cap erupted from the lip and landed in another portion of the bar.

Setting

Gambit's Bar

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#2012-09-23 08:20:59, as written by TheNoremac42

Gro'chal furrowed his brow in fascination at this creature's mind. Suddenly however, he looked at the empty seat beside him. "Yes?... Are you sure?... Alright, better get going then..." he said to seemingly no one before rising from his seat and striding to the door.

Setting

Gambit's Bar

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#2012-09-23 08:29:02, as written by TheNoremac42

The psychotic cat would likely find no culprit, because the visage of the trench-coated man vanished without a trace that he even entered the room. Not even the memories of his appearance remained in the minds of the bar's inhabitants.

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Gambit's Bar

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#2012-09-26 03:45:40, as written by TheNoremac42

At the sign of the android's aggression against Alix, the lights began to flicker eerily. The wood forming the walls and ceiling creaked and groaned as if being compressed by the force of a giant's fist. Bottles and glasses shook violently as the liquids within froze instantaneously.

"Your aggression is ill advised, madam..." replied a calm, intelligent, yet dark voice.

Setting

Gambit's Bar

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#2012-09-26 04:03:47, as written by TheNoremac42

As the powerful psychokinetic force began to take control of the room, the wooden beams giving support to the walls groaned and irked. One by one, each light bulb erupted in a shower of glass and sparks. Darkness gradually swallowed the room as the disembodied voice continued. A set of ghostly glowing blue eyes emerged and dissipated randomly throughout the thick unnatural shadows.

"At this moment, I suggest that you refrain from your threats, or this bar may get very... chaotic. As for myself? I have many names... I am that Death fears and obeys. I am the Dark One, the Weaver of Death. Rage, hatred, sorrow and suffering... All of these I am; all of these I have become."

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Gambit's Bar

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#2012-09-26 04:18:01, as written by TheNoremac42

At those words, Aiyanna might find her blade slowly drift away from Alix's throat, as if guided by a strong yet invisible hand fueled by a nigh endless reservoir of rage and hatred. The darkness retreated slightly, revealing the visage of a tall bulky man. Eerie glowing blue eyes flashed from within the concealing shadow of a black fedora and trench coat. 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. Gloved hands folded behind his back.

"Now how about you lower your weapon and allow the fine human to leave in piece." he said calmly. "She had done nothing to the Aschen, and is but a child caught in the wrong time and place - a broken child, whose heart has been rebuilt and restitched a thousand times from numerous scars of pain and sorrow... You have no cause to bring harm to her, but to acquire me. Here I am..." he finished before outstretching his arms in a beckoning gesture.

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Gambit's Bar

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#2012-09-26 04:31:41, as written by TheNoremac42

The trench-coated man chuckled darkly. "There is little that is beyond my comprehension. The mind and soul are but open tomes to my will. I see every memory, every taint, every fear, and it amuses me. You behave as if I am but a common smuggler, Aiyanna, and you forget that I have numerous undisclosed resources at my command. Beware, chosen of the gods..." he smirked mockingly, "... You tread upon my territory - upon the ground of Gro'chal Deathweaver, the Necro Lord. As for our final confrontation... It will come at its own appropriate time." he said cryptically.

With that, the psychic space pirate vanished. The darkness gradually faded away, and the light returned. All memories of his appearance vanished from the minds of those present, leaving only the fear, darkness, and words. There was not a single trace that he ever stepped foot into the bar.

Setting

Gambit's Bar

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#2012-10-21 05:03:41, as written by TheNoremac42

Setting

Gambit's Bar

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#2012-10-21 05:11:28, 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 homeless street-rat 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.

Setting

Gambit's Bar

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#2012-10-21 05:21:29, as written by TheNoremac42

As the mysterious trench-coated man sat at the counter and attempted to probe the feeble minds of those present, he grew impatient waiting for a server. He opened his black-gloved hand and his finger twitched slightly. Suddenly a bottle of liquor rattled gently before throwing itself off of the shelf. It landed neatly in his grip. The cap launched into another portion of the bar.

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Gambit's Bar

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#2012-10-21 05:38:31, as written by TheNoremac42

"You have arrived a bit earlier than I anticipated..." replied a deep, dark, and intelligent voice. The trench-coated man did not even flinch at the being's statement. "... but no matter. As for your apparent demand. May I inquire what has given you the authority to deny my right to reside within this establishment? I would advise that you refrain from aggression. Such acts will only lead to ruin..." he said. As he spoke, the air around the tavern became progressively colder. Those attune to the spiritual realm would sense a steadily rising tide of unintelligible whispers. They virtually dripped with suffering, sorrow, hate, and rage.

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Gambit's Bar

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#2012-10-22 02:50:21, as written by TheNoremac42

It was then that whatever rubble blocked the doorway of the bar would be moved by an unseen, yet powerful, force. A moment later the visage of a man clad in a black trench-coat and concealing fedora peeked through the door. He scanned the room and admired the carnage.

"My my..." he said in a deep, dark, yet intelligent voice. "What a mess we have here... Now if you don't mind, I will be commandeering these young lads."

Without waiting for a reply, he lifted his gloved hand and snapped his fingers. The corpses that littered the ground began to jerk and throb. Blue flames erupted from their eye sockets as they slowly stood. Gathering themselves, they gradually shuffled out the door in lock-step. They were void of emotion - besides the harnessed blood frenzy that lied locked within.

Both the mysterious figure and the resurrected corpses dissappeared into the night.

Seen 270 Times • Page 5 of 14 • 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8 ... 14