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Thanatos Necromortis

"I am the Reaper, the Harvester, the Pale Rider with Hell at his heels... I am Death - and I have come to reap the harvest."

0 · 1,874 views · located in The Arena

a character in “The Multiverse”, as played by TheNoremac42

Description


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Thanatos
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The Harvester
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Normal Form

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Art by N-Deed@Deviantart.com

Battle Form

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Human Form

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Art by ctyler@Deviantart.com
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Personal Information
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Full Name
Thanatos Necromortis

Description
"And I looked, and behold a pale horse: and his name that sat on him was Death, and Hell followed with him. And power was given unto them over the fourth part of the earth, to kill with sword, and with hunger, and with death, and with the beasts of the earth."
– Revelation 6:8

Age:
Unknown

Gender:
Identifies as male

Race/Main:
Celestial Being

Race/Sub:
Undead

Honorifics|Titles|Nicknames
The Harvester
The Reaper
Death
The Pale Rider

Sexual Orientation:
N/A

Birthplace:
Unknown
.
Date of Birth:
Unknown

Marking|Tattoos|Piercings:

Height:
6'5"

Weight
N/A

Physical Condition:
Skeletal (Normal form)
Average (Human form)

Current Residence
The Underworld

Former Residence
Unknown

Family/Relatives:
Unknown

Friends/Comrades:
None

Enemies
None

Rivals
None

Organizations/Tribes/Clans:
None

Former Affiliations:
None

Disabilities:
Can only claim those whose times have come.

Personality:
(WIP)

Likes:
Chess, challenges, and classical music

Dislikes:
Liches, necromancers, and those that try to cheat Death

Psychological Condition:
Indifference with a side of minor lunacy.

Alignment:
True Neutral



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Equipment
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:Attire:
(Normal Form)
A long tattered black cloak

(Battle Form)
A long worn cape and abyssal steel armor

(Human Form)
A long black coat, white button-up shirt, gray tie, and onyx

ring.
:Protection:
There is only one way to kill Death, and he is not willing to tell.

:Weapon(s):
The Reaper's Scythe

:Accessories/Misc:
The Book of the Dead
The Hourglass of Mortality


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|Abilities|Traits|Racial|
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Death's Gaze
Death forces you to look into his eyes, and within you see an utter and complete darkness that engulfs your being in an endless abyss. Within is the visage of your own soul.

Pestilence and Plague
At Death's heels come all manner of diseases. The ground beneath his stride withers, blackens, and dies as swarms of foul insects spread his deadly plague.

Death's Call
At Death's feared battle cry, a legion of departed souls emerges from the Underworld and fights in his stead. Eager to appease The Harvester, they fight with unmatched ferocity.

The Harvest
With his infamous and deadly scythe, The Harvester reaps the soul of the recently departed with a well-practiced swing.




©2011 Wolven[OC] (BBC Coding/Design) - Roleplay Gateway. All Rights Reserved

So begins...

Thanatos Necromortis's Story

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Moments after the decrepit patron Joe was assaulted by the facehugger, the dismal sound of horse hooves clattering against pavement echoed up the street. Lightning shot across the blackened night sky, revealing the frame of an old worn carriage parked on the curb. Foreboding thunder, mixed with the steady creaks and groans of the axle, shuddered through the air.

The door slammed open and a powerful gale of frigid wind, cold as Death, surged through the establishment. As an unnatural darkness dimmed the bar, the warmth of the fireplace and the light of candles were snuffed out. A deep ghostly sigh resonated from the doorway.

Illuminated by the sudden display of lightning was a morbid figure clad in a black and tattered cloak. A hood was drawn over his face, concealing it in complete darkness. Gripped in one of its skeletal hands was a long sinister scythe that dripped with blood. Hanging from the head of the weapon was an ornate hourglass decorated with ebony skulls. Sand steadily drizzled into the lower portion of the container.

The upper was nearly empty.

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If the infamous figure noticed any of the other patrons, he did not pay any heed. Death had come to do his job. The Harvester floated across the floorboards towards the fallen man. With his scythe hoisted over his shoulder, he hovered over Joe, the man who had been claimed by a facehugger, and simply... stood there.

The hourglass was nearly empty.

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The figure simply nodded at the man before eying the happenings in the establishment. Sounded like he had to work overtime tonight. Thanatos gripped the frayed edges of his tattered cloak in his skeletal hand and lurched it over his body. He vanished in a cloud of smoke.

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As death rained down in the bar, Death followed suit. Thanatos, cloaked in tattered and torn black robes, loomed in the corner. A sinister razor sharp scythe hung loosely in the grip of his jagged bone-white fingers. From the scythe's neck hung an ornate hourglass. Sand trickled into the lower chamber.

Death had come to claim his prize, but who's time had run dry? Only he knew...

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The infamous specter glided over the scorched floorboards, phasing straight through the smashed furniture. What disruptor blasts intercepted the path of The Harvester merely passed through the aberration or lightly scorched the torn robes that adorned him. He hovered above the fallen form of Braxgar and heaved his scythe over his head.

With a well practiced swing, Death brought the Reaper's Scythe onto the dying man. It passed through his physical body, clung to his spirit, and yanked it free of its earthly prison.

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With the not-yet-departed soul before him, Thanatos reached within his robes and retrieved a hefty leather-bound tome. He unclasped the binding and threw it open with a bony hand. The pages turned on their own accord, as if guided by a strong breeze, before Death's clenched fist caused it to cease.

"Name...?" the phantom uttered. His voice was like the groan of the wind through a graveyard. "... for the record."

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"Sign here..." Thanatos echoed as he gestured to a spot on the page with a bony finger. Gripped between his thumb and another finger was a quill pen. "The carriage is waiting outside. Please hurry... I will need to take a few more trips before the evening is over."

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When Braxgar finished, Death slammed the book shut. The binding clasped automatically. He then hovered across the floor of the destroyed tavern, leading the freshly reaped soul towards the rickety old carriage that waited outside. Once inside, the carriage took off at a low crawl into the night.

The setting changes from gambits-bar to Wing City

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"Tank you sir an' have a nice dai." squeaked the Indian man at a mobile food cart.

A man turned away and strode from the cart. He was clad in a tailored coat and buttoned-up white shirt that covered his skeletal wiry frame Gripped in his hand was a stylish black cane with a marble spherical handle. On this hand was rectangular opal ring. In his other hand was a rather greasy chili-dog wrapped in checkered wax foil. Adorning his head was a black fedora and shades.

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"Well hello, Joe..." said the thin man with the cane as he took a bite of the chili-dog. The man's face was rigid and void of emotion until his lips peeled back in a disturbed smile. "Lovely day, is it not?"

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"Why Joe..." his voice uttered from behind Joe, where he now stood. "Don't you recognize me even in this feeble form?" There was a dark unearthly aura around the man, as if he did not belong there among the living.

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Hovering above the fallen man was now a morbid figure clad in a black and tattered cloak. A hood was drawn over his face, concealing it in complete darkness. Gripped in one of its skeletal hands was a long sinister scythe that dripped with blood. Hanging from the neck of the weapon was an ornate hourglass decorated with ebony skulls.

"Is this better?" Thanatos whispered in a ghostly voice.

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"I am here to restore what should be..." replied Death as he hoisted his scythe on his shoulder. "For too long have you slipped through the Harvest. Now, Joseph, it is time to be reaped before the yield succumbs to decay."

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The void beneath the being's dark hood remained motionless. "Death waits for no man, Joseph." he said. "Your hexer will receive his judgement, for he has stolen something that belongs to me. If you desire another chance, then perhaps we can come to an agreement. Time is a valuable thing, so choose wisely..."

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"You forget, mortal... I am the one who kicks your bucket." he retorted as he lift his skeletal hand and pressed his thumb and index finger together. "You will regain your two lost years, but once your time is up..." Thanatos shook his scythe, causing the the hourglass to rattle. The sand continued to trickle. "... it will be time to leave."

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"You should consider yourself lucky, human." he leaned closer. "Very few are given the hour of their inevitable conclusion. I could take you by force right now if I wished. I am old, Joseph. Very old. You overestimate how much I care for your paltry existence. If you desire to increase your lifespan, then you very well should give me a good reason to do it. What would be your end of the bargain?"

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Without a word, Death gripped the edges of his frayed robes and jerked them over his body. He vanished in a cloud of smoke.

The setting changes from wing-city to Gambit's Bar

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As death rained down in the bar, Death followed suit. Thanatos, cloaked in tattered and torn black robes, loomed in the corner. A sinister razor sharp scythe hung loosely in the grip of his jagged bone-white fingers. From the scythe's neck hung an ornate hourglass. Sand trickled into the lower chamber.

Death had come to claim his prize, but who's time had run dry? Only he knew...

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Death lurked in the corner, watching the battle with mild interest. Someone would die tonight, but whom? Only he knew...

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Death continued to lurk in the corner. The sand of the Hourglass of Mortality trickled - nearly empty. Tick... Tock... Tick... Tock...

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The infamous specter glided over the floorboards, phasing straight through the smashed furniture. Flandre's wall of destructive energy intercepted the path of The Harvester merely passed through the aberration or lightly scorched the torn robes that adorned him. He hovered above the fallen form of Elisia and heaved his scythe over his head.

With a well practiced swing, Death brought the Reaper's Scythe onto the dying girl. It passed through her physical body, clung to her spirit, and yanked it free of its earthly prison.

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Thanatos grumbled as his scythe passed through the girl unsuccessfully. He hit it against the ground a couple times and shook it. The hourglass had not run out yet. Maybe it needed a tune-up? Then, raising his index finger, his skeletal hand reached into his torn black robes and emerged with a small piece of paper.

Aha! Hmm... Must be the Elisia next door...

With that, the phantom gripped the edges of his frayed robes and jerked them over his body. He vanished in a cloud of smoke.

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As Joe ascended the steps, a nail would mysteriously bend upwards. It was situated directly where his foot would land.

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As Joe tumbled down the stairs, a man turned around from his spot at the counter and winced. He had a wiry skeletal frame with a thin bony face. Dark shades covered his eyes. The man was dressed in a well tailored sports jacket, black pants, and a dark fedora. Gripped in his hand was a chocolate milkshake.

"Ouch..." he winced before taking a swig from his frozen drink. "That did not appear pleasant."

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"Oh I am sure you have..." the man sneered. He was surprised Joe did not recognize him. I mean, after all these years of cat and mouse?