Description
Short version: Onyx is tall and thin, with gray eyes and long black hair. There’s nothing special about his eyes; they just happen to be gray. Although he looks somewhat fragile in physical terms, he also seems menacing, especially when angered.
He prefers to dress plainly, in dark colors (or white), but rarely black. He has no accessories.
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Onyx was born into his power as a warlock, making him somewhat less powerful than those granted such power. His magic is essentially fueled by his 'soul', which is far more powerful than that of a normal human; in addition, the power comes back at such a rate that it's hard to use up. Still, extensive draw on this power will weaken Onyx.
This power grants Onyx a wide range of powers, though he's limited compared to many other spellcaster. He has no defensive or healing ability, and almost all of his offensive powers are lethal, making it rather hard for him to capture anybody.
Personality
Onyx is snarky at best to rude at worst, ranging through various levels of sarcasm between. He's able to act well enough to fill most roles in a hurry, and has a bit of a different morality than most people. Technolgoy interest him almsot as much as magic, and in a multidimensional setting, he'll happily spend quite a lot of pare time examining new forms of both.
Equipment
Onyx keeps a generator (small, silver oval, in terms of appearances) which produces a holographic .44 magnum. That allows him to generally shoot whatever his magic won't kill, especially since its bullets lack recoil, and the guns doesn't need reloading since it's, well, holographic. It's slow, but don't underestimate its power... unless you normally ignore bullets, in which case, you'll be safe from it.
He also has a set of holographic armor, also originating form a generator. Invisible until something attempts to damage Onyx, it resembles a set of dark blue leather armor. It isn't very strong, and can be overwhelmed easily, but recharges quickly.
History
For starters, who names their kids Onyx?
They didn't. A few years back, onyx lost his memory. Most of it, anyway. And he hasn't gone looking for the missing pieces, because he feels that would be stupid. So he simply renamed himself and made a new life. He made friends with a lot of people, despite his general bad attitude - a knight, an assassin, a necromancer, a healer, and so forth.
But more importantly, he became a criminal. Or rather, a crime lord, so to speak. He ran the crime in his neighborhood, and mostly stayed out of jail.
How'd he get here? He wishes he knew.
So begins...
Once Onyx was finally done screaming, he slowly took stock in himself. The bad news was, he was in the fetal position, and from the sound of things that were slowly drifting into his conscious awareness, things were only getting worse. The good news was, his magic was returning, filling the gap that the anti-magic grenade had left in him. Slowly, yes - veer so slowly. Barely a trickle, certainly not enough to be useful. But it was returning.
Maybe he should've just ended the fight before it began. Incinerated both the soldier and the gryphon. He sure as hell couldn't now; at this rate, it would be hours before he had enough power for that. And he had liked the gryphon, before he'd become a idiot that lost control. Plus, while he had't liked the woman's ideals, she herself wasn't that bad.
But hey, maybe he'd get to see a war. Or the start of one. His planet had't had a war in nearly a full thousand years. He'd get to witness history, even if it wasn't the history of his planet or even if his dimension. And that was assuming he survived.
"It started," Onyx declared, ignoring Skan's version as he stood up, "when your buddy here decided not to listen to reason, instead favoring an idiotic, blind rage. And now, it's about to start a freaking war. I hope you're proud of him."
The warlock nodded to Marlene and Bigsby. "You two, nice chat. At least some people know how to keep to logic. You..." (And here he focused on Skan) "... you're the moron who refused to back down. If you had, none of this would've happened. So for the record, while we had a nice chat before you became an idiot, I blame you for this. All of this."
With that, he made his way out of Gambit's Bar. Time to recuperate and, well, not get killed. Having a hole ripped into his soul took time to recover from.
Gragnar the Uruk-hai sat up, coughing black blood. His wounds had somehow healed completely, and he'd been forced back into life. He couldn't say he found the experience very pleasant. It was certainly, well, bloody. And his armor was a complete wreck.
Gragnar found his bow and, finding it undamaged, returned it to his back. he couldn't remember why he had died, only that it had happened. So, shrugging to himself, he made his way out of Gambit's Bar.