we are saints and sinners.

we are saints and sinners.
IP: 4.225.95.139
Posted on October 28, 2009 at 00:24:00 AM by nirvana

Name: Nirvana

Gender: Male

Appearance: Nirvana is mysterious, secretive. He likes long trench coats, typical army boots on his feet. There is usually blood on his fair skin, intricate scarring runs all over his body, and open wounds inflicted by some unknown source. He has shoulder length black hair, its casually peppered with gray from age. It had a slight wave to it, but only when its wet. Nirvana carries a limp in his right leg, some old forgotten injury he doesn�t like to discuss. He has two crystal blue eyes, neither work too well, and the left is actually completely blind. Very slim, anorexia comes to mine and he is exactly four feet high from the ground. Spindly fingers, long dirty fingernails, and sharp teeth from grinding down bone.

Defects: Schizophrenia; has a demonic voice controlling him.

Age: Thirty-five

Personality: Aloof most of the time, preferring to be alone than deal with other people. He can come off as emotionless, stone faced when certain situations are confronted. Nirvana loathes generally anyone, has never felt love before in his barren heart; maybe he cannot love. Extremely intelligent with fighting, but can also manage to be quite good with politics. Dislikes authority, an anarchist to the core. Cannot be emotionally brought down, hard top physically harm because the schizophrenia causes him not to feel pain all that much. Will not eat regular food unless made to, likes to munch on other fairies when he can -- Nirvana is skilled in hunting and trapping his own species. Deceitful and manipulating, refuses to trust anyone besides himself.

History: He has a long, complicated history. Both his parents were hated, he ate his own mother once she had crossed him. Was never approved of or loved in his life, demonically possessed when he was very young. Eyes were destroyed by an older, jealous brother. Has seen many places, destroyed many people. Obsessed with small children, especially females.

Sample: (In horse form)

Hello darkness, my old friend.

It had started over without changing bodies, just preserved the one it had claimed. This demon would not release such a strong beast, it was too clever for that; the body too dangerous to be free. Besides, there was no mind inside that battered head. That had been taken away a very long time ago, and who knew where it went. There were too many scars, bruises, and wounds. He had seen too many places, and met too many faces to ever be the same again. He knew there was a world, cold and dark, out there that he had once explored. And he would never return to it, he knew there would be no trip back to his homeland. The place he had so long yearned for in his nightmares, but it had slipped away just like every other good thing that had ever come to him.

And somewhere inside him the beast knew there would be no life ahead, he knew that the demon crawling in him would get bored. Soon this body would be broken down, soon there would be no more battles to win, and he could return to the ground where he was born; hopefully there would be no afterlife for his mother to torment him in. But he did not know when the day would come, it seemed like a distant future that he might never get to experience. But for now he had business in this strange land, work that the demon called him to do and he would obey. Just like all the times before, and spread his misery across the world -- murdering, raping, and stealing were what drove him. To torment and cause pain, that was all he was good for. All he knew, all the demon let him know.

Slowly he came with a limp in his right leg, an untold battle story. There was something different about him, the steel gray stallion, but nothing different about the night. The moon in the sky was bloody, the moon mixing with the sun to cause such a dramatic effect. He could remember a night like this so many years ago, it had been his birth night. The stallion stops for just a moment, holding his head into his chest like a broken swan. Those two tattered ears were directed forward into the breathless darkness, listening to something that possibly wasn�t there. Without a sound he went forward again, extending his neck slightly and his pace was brisk -- he looked feline as he moved, a stalking maneuver he had gained from his mother. There was something out there, and he knew the small all too well. The giant mutt held those eyes into a dead stare, even though they hardly worked in the darkness; one was blind, the other half. But it made his other senses stronger, and with all the years he had been like this he didn�t even need those multi-colored eyes.

As the moon illuminated him anyone could see what he truly was. A monster unfit to live. An unnaturally tall species for his breed, with thick limbs and a strong back. His head is dished, with slightly roman nose. The color of his coat is nearly unidentifiable because of all the gore and blood stained onto it. But underneath the body is nearly white, with dark head and legs -- his mane and tail are silver, bits of flesh and bone tied into their tangles. Scars form patterns all over his body, and two sharp fangs are produced from between his blood smeared lips. One of his eyes (the blind) is crystal blue, while the other (half blind) is bloody brown in appearance. These were all traits handed down from generation to generation of his line. Any horse would fear him, naturally because of his appearance. But if they knew him, the stone horse, they would hate him. They would wish he were death or that he had never been born to begin with. He was used to it, and he did not want their opinions. Long has he been a part of this spinning world, he had as much right to survive as anything else. Only if they knew how much he didn�t want this life, they might have pity upon him.

The stallion stopped again, lifting that perfect head and letting his nostrils flare. They took in the sent, like a perfume. Again he began to move forward in the same manner, eyes flashing deadly in the night. There it was, a foal standing alone. It looked to be a yearling, maybe younger. The stallion lowered his head down, ears flickering to the body that moved before him. The yearling sensed him, but it is too late. With a savage roaring sound from deep inside his chest the gray launches at the colt, using those razor sharp fangs to tears into the flesh. He would not make such a young life suffer and so he took out the jugular vein first, killing in a matter of seconds.

As the young horse lay limp on the ground the stallion licked his lips. Shaking out his mane he lowered his head down to the corpse, and with a slight smile he began to eat.

Player: Kate

n i r v a n a

Replies:

Accepted-> - By MALLOS November 3, 2009 at 04:18:59 AM

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