Post by dom on Dec 3, 2009 17:53:54 GMT -5
Name: Saeren-Nin, Son of Karrik. (His birth name being Saeren. The 'Nin" is added to operatives of the Klaviss Clan upon their completion of the trials, somewhat like a title. His name is pronounced (say-reen)
Nick Name: Stated above, his common name would be Saeren, his proper name being Saeren-Nin.
Race: Angel
Clan: Klaviss
Species: N/A
Gender: Male
Age: 367
Appearance: His appearance is much different then that of most Angels, as the children of the Klaviss Clan are bred to be. Standing at 6'5, the Angel has a much different frame than most. Lacking the bulky and powerful muscle of his Angelic Brothers, Saeren instead has a lean and powerful frame like that of a Wolf whereas his Brothers in Arms can be looked upon as Bears. This physique has come from training in acrobats, gymnastics, and other forms of resistance training.
His hair is a dark reddish brown color and falls well past his shoulders, almost coming down to the middle of his back. When the light hits it his cascading locks seem to capture the light and shine with brilliance of their own. His eyes are a similar color, though more of a dark and deep brown, the color seeming almost kind and peaceful when looked upon.
Saeren can be seen almost constantly clad in his dyed black leather armor. The armor is light and flexible, created for the mobility and speed an operative such as himself would require. Over the leather armor the Angel wears a heavy black cloak that has a deep hood perfect for concealing his eyes in shadow and hiding himself from unwanted glances. He also carries a scarf that while working is wrapped around his neck, chin, mouth and nose; it's purpose to hide his appearance.
Weapon: First off, like all agents of the Klaviss Clan, Saeren has been trained to a masterful degree in the arts of hand to hand combat. He has a deep understanding of anatomy including arteries, pressure points and the skeletal structure which greatly aids him in the process of dispatching enemies quickly and quietly. He knows how to break bones through extending them incorrectly instead of using brute force, as well as how to knock his opponents unconscious quickly and effectively.
However, Saeren cannot always rely on his hands which is why he has also been trained in the sways of steel and weaponry. Although he is talented in the use of most creations, there are some he favors more than others. The first is something he always has, a weapon he rarely is seen without. It is that of a scimitar, a wickedly sharp and curved blade measuring roughly three and a half feet in length. The weapon was created by the master craftsmen of the Ja'Quel and has a perfect balance about it. The weapon is a favorite of the Angel and is one he has mastered to the point of feeling a bond to the weapon. The blade is kept in a simple leather scarab that is fitted upon his back through the use of thick leather straps.
Saeren also carries a powerful longbow crafted for him by his mentor during the days of his training. The bow was one that he could not use at first, the powerful wood and Angelic design requiring a being capable of putting the nearly three-hundred pounds of test upon the wood that was required to bend the frame and draw the string. However, as he grew into his weapon he realized the beauty of such a weapon. The arrow is capable of sending arrows hurling through the air with power enough to knock them from their mounts, to punch through leather and chainmail armor, and to the unarmored it easily pierces through flesh, muscle and organs. The quiver is kept at his hip, held in place by small bindings that keep it steady and the cover from coming loose. The bow, when he is working, is kept upon his back running the opposite direction of his scimitar.
Finally the assassin carries an assortment of throwing knives about his persons that her carefully hidden upon his body and throughout his cloak.
History: Bred for war. Created for destruction. Designed for complete domination and enslavement of all those that oppose them. The Angels were the perfect race in the sense of strength, power, and honor. No other creatures in existence could compete with them, no one else could match their desire for domination or their thirst for victory. They truly were unique conquerors, beings whose drive for more knew no bounds. The truth to that was in the history of their existence; once they had run out of beings to wage war on they had destroyed the very Gods that had breathed life into them. It had been the Angels who had burnt down the Heavens in their maddened lust for more.
Every Angel that was born was born with the understanding that someday they would march onto the plain of battle, that they, alongside the numberless ranks of their Brothers in Arms, would stand their ground against any and every face of beings that stood in the way of their limitless expansion. Every Angel dreamed of being upon the plain of battle, surrounded by the dead and dying, the screams of those at the door of the Underworld music to their ears as the chorus of steel scraping against steel set the mood for them. Every Angel was taught to rely upon the Angel beside them, they fought as powerful and unstoppable units that worked on the concept that the Angel next to you would die for you, thus making you honor-bound to die for them. These were the dreams of Angels; except those of the Klaviss.
To them their distant battlefield was nothing more than the shadows and darkness hidden within cities and villages. To them their enemies were but single individuals to be met in alone. They were raised to know they could rely on no one but themselves, and in the rare instances where the Klaviss Agents were sent out in teams they were taught a sort of extreme detachment even more present than in most Angels. They were told to never go back for their fallen, they were told to never risk the mission of their identities to save a comrade who hadn't been skilled enough to survive. To them death weaned away the weak and survival pushed the strong further towards their ultimate destiny.
Saeren-Nin was born into this extreme and cruel Clan, and his training mirrored the harshness of their ideals. At the young age of seven he was torn away from his family, taken away by the Clan to begin his training. He was left alone in dark rooms for days on end, he would go a week without sleep, they would keep food from him; they were teaching him to survive with nothing, to need only his own will to function. They slowly robbed him of everything, forcing him out of the safety of the Clan's village and out into the wilderness to survive for a month. They forced the boys when they were merely fourteen years old to fight one another to the death, thus halving the size of the class in one swift movement. The tests remained at a constant level of harshness always, and after his twentieth year of it all he was ready to face his trials, the class having been caught down to only fourteen operatives by this time.
The final trials of the Klaviss Clan had been simple in nature, but had ensured only the best trained and most fit would succeed and carry on. Two were taken at a time, though unaware of the other, and told to hunt down the other being that occupied the same patch of wilderness they were left alone in. The game of cat and house that the Clan forced upon the Operatives were cruel, some of them realizing that they were hunting one another, and some not caring. Saeren-Nin had been one of those that had not cared. If he was strong he would succeed, if he was weak he would be killed. And to him he would have rather been strong and driven a blade through the hearts of everyone of his classmates than to be weak. Being weak simply was not an option.
And so, being driven by a clear desire to live, Saeren-Nin had slain one of his classmates, a woman he had known for the past twenty years of his life. He had killed her as if she had meant nothing to him, because in all honesty she hadn't. His training had worked, and to him he had needed no one to get a long in this world, only himself. He had returned to the village carrying her cloak and her blades, things Operatives were instructed to never lose. Showing these things to his superiors, Saeren-Nin was enrolled as a fully honored and qualified Operative of the Klaviss. He was looked upon as a higher member of the Village now, not that it mattered, as soon as he started receiving his assignments he hardly ever had time to return home.
As the decades wore on, the assassin made a name for himself as someone who never missed. Once given a mark, Saeren-Nin would chase it down to the ends of the Earth simply to ensure it's destruction at his hands. It didn't matter the likelihood of success, nor how well protected the mark might have been. Enemies could be killed, walls climbed and defenses broken; the only thing that held men back was themselves. It was of that simple philosophy that Saeren-Nin never feared what he went up against, everything could be beaten, that was the simply, cold truth. No one lasted forever, the trick was to make an impression while you were around.
However, things began to change in his world as he was contacted with a message from his Clan, his mark was a high-ranking Angelic Strategist. It was one of the first times a mark had been that of an Angel. It wasn't that he had never killed one of his own, just that when they had it had been justified. They had been cowards or failures, perhaps even rebels and traitors. They had deserved death, but this man was loyal, his reputation known throughout the Ten Clans as a tactician who seemed to never lose. This had caused strife within the mind of the Assassin, unsure of whether the letter was a fake, or he was being used for some sort of political move. Whatever the motives where, he had a loyalty to his Clan and a tactician to kill.
The mission had been simple enough, almost too simple. The Angel whose name had been Meleki had been riding through the wilderness with his bodyguards. All of them had been on horses, all of them riding in a loose formation. From his vantage point, hidden by the darkness and the brush, he had looked on. His bow had been ready, the string taunt with the tension, the feathered shaft reaching back to his cheek as the weapon prepared to let loose. However, it had been at the last moment that Saeren-Nin had connected the dots. His eyes had seen the leather bindings around the hands of 'Meleki'. It was a decoy, a man being forced to ride this wide open path. It explained why the guards did not stay closer, they wanted Saeren-Nin to take the shot.
Seconds later Angels had burst all around him, weapons drawn and murderous intent visible in his eyes. Whoever had delivered the message from Klaviss to him had set him up. Letting loose the first arrow, the powerful shaft and punched the man off his feet and killed him quickly. However, he was an assassin, trained to hit and run not stand his ground and fight against the oncoming hordes of enemies. So he had run, taking off into the night. He had eluded the trackers and the soldiers that hunted him, doing what he had been trained to do. However, he still had a problem. Someone high up in his own Clan had wanted him dead, and they had almost gotten that dream fulfilled.
This had brought up a troublesome thought process within the mind of the assassin. Whoever had sent him his orders was high up enough to send out missions without needing the permission of any Council. That meant that if he were to return to his village, the very same faceless Angel that had attempted to kill him once would have a perfect opportunity to do so again. However, he knew the soldiers would report that he had escaped, and in doing so he was almost certain the Klaviss Clan would label him a coward and a deserter, meaning Agents he had trained alongside, and even some he had helped train would soon flock after him. He had been stuck between a literal rock and hard place.
Fleeing to an Oasis that the Klaviss Clan told their operatives about, but one that wasn't too well known in the grand scheme of things, the Angel had hunkered down. He knew it would be a few weeks before the message was relayed back to his village and Agents could be mobilized against him. Until then he could hide here, avoiding their search parties and anything else that might stumble upon him. However, while hiding out here something else strange had happened. In one tremendous moment the sky had seemed to tear apart and the world had felt as if it would end.
And the next he had woken up in a different world. A world far different from his own. His first thoughts were what new treachery was being played against him, then he had learned of other Angels. It simply left him with one difficult decision; did he trust them and go to them, or remain in hiding. Where they ones who knew of his attempted assassination of Meleki? Well, the fact was he couldn't survive in this new world on his own. The fact was he knew he would go to his brethren, the question simply was would it be worth it in the end.
Personality: Saeren-Nin is a clever man, simply put. Before attacking a problem, he has no qualms with staying back to study the entire situation. He has a strict sense of patience ingrained in him that has allowed him to easily be one to stand back and let situations carry themselves out as he waits for the opportune moment to strike out. Distrusting, smart, merciless and possessing a hard exterior, Saeren-Nin is the model example of the kind of assassins the Klaviss Clan creates, both through his thinking and actions.
Pictures:
Scimitar- andreas.blicher.info/images/Scimitar.jpg
Cloak and Armor- www.lrpstore.com/uploads/images_products_large/549.jpg
Dagger- www.lorifactor.pl/noze/n63.jpg
Nick Name: Stated above, his common name would be Saeren, his proper name being Saeren-Nin.
Race: Angel
Clan: Klaviss
Species: N/A
Gender: Male
Age: 367
Appearance: His appearance is much different then that of most Angels, as the children of the Klaviss Clan are bred to be. Standing at 6'5, the Angel has a much different frame than most. Lacking the bulky and powerful muscle of his Angelic Brothers, Saeren instead has a lean and powerful frame like that of a Wolf whereas his Brothers in Arms can be looked upon as Bears. This physique has come from training in acrobats, gymnastics, and other forms of resistance training.
His hair is a dark reddish brown color and falls well past his shoulders, almost coming down to the middle of his back. When the light hits it his cascading locks seem to capture the light and shine with brilliance of their own. His eyes are a similar color, though more of a dark and deep brown, the color seeming almost kind and peaceful when looked upon.
Saeren can be seen almost constantly clad in his dyed black leather armor. The armor is light and flexible, created for the mobility and speed an operative such as himself would require. Over the leather armor the Angel wears a heavy black cloak that has a deep hood perfect for concealing his eyes in shadow and hiding himself from unwanted glances. He also carries a scarf that while working is wrapped around his neck, chin, mouth and nose; it's purpose to hide his appearance.
Weapon: First off, like all agents of the Klaviss Clan, Saeren has been trained to a masterful degree in the arts of hand to hand combat. He has a deep understanding of anatomy including arteries, pressure points and the skeletal structure which greatly aids him in the process of dispatching enemies quickly and quietly. He knows how to break bones through extending them incorrectly instead of using brute force, as well as how to knock his opponents unconscious quickly and effectively.
However, Saeren cannot always rely on his hands which is why he has also been trained in the sways of steel and weaponry. Although he is talented in the use of most creations, there are some he favors more than others. The first is something he always has, a weapon he rarely is seen without. It is that of a scimitar, a wickedly sharp and curved blade measuring roughly three and a half feet in length. The weapon was created by the master craftsmen of the Ja'Quel and has a perfect balance about it. The weapon is a favorite of the Angel and is one he has mastered to the point of feeling a bond to the weapon. The blade is kept in a simple leather scarab that is fitted upon his back through the use of thick leather straps.
Saeren also carries a powerful longbow crafted for him by his mentor during the days of his training. The bow was one that he could not use at first, the powerful wood and Angelic design requiring a being capable of putting the nearly three-hundred pounds of test upon the wood that was required to bend the frame and draw the string. However, as he grew into his weapon he realized the beauty of such a weapon. The arrow is capable of sending arrows hurling through the air with power enough to knock them from their mounts, to punch through leather and chainmail armor, and to the unarmored it easily pierces through flesh, muscle and organs. The quiver is kept at his hip, held in place by small bindings that keep it steady and the cover from coming loose. The bow, when he is working, is kept upon his back running the opposite direction of his scimitar.
Finally the assassin carries an assortment of throwing knives about his persons that her carefully hidden upon his body and throughout his cloak.
History: Bred for war. Created for destruction. Designed for complete domination and enslavement of all those that oppose them. The Angels were the perfect race in the sense of strength, power, and honor. No other creatures in existence could compete with them, no one else could match their desire for domination or their thirst for victory. They truly were unique conquerors, beings whose drive for more knew no bounds. The truth to that was in the history of their existence; once they had run out of beings to wage war on they had destroyed the very Gods that had breathed life into them. It had been the Angels who had burnt down the Heavens in their maddened lust for more.
Every Angel that was born was born with the understanding that someday they would march onto the plain of battle, that they, alongside the numberless ranks of their Brothers in Arms, would stand their ground against any and every face of beings that stood in the way of their limitless expansion. Every Angel dreamed of being upon the plain of battle, surrounded by the dead and dying, the screams of those at the door of the Underworld music to their ears as the chorus of steel scraping against steel set the mood for them. Every Angel was taught to rely upon the Angel beside them, they fought as powerful and unstoppable units that worked on the concept that the Angel next to you would die for you, thus making you honor-bound to die for them. These were the dreams of Angels; except those of the Klaviss.
To them their distant battlefield was nothing more than the shadows and darkness hidden within cities and villages. To them their enemies were but single individuals to be met in alone. They were raised to know they could rely on no one but themselves, and in the rare instances where the Klaviss Agents were sent out in teams they were taught a sort of extreme detachment even more present than in most Angels. They were told to never go back for their fallen, they were told to never risk the mission of their identities to save a comrade who hadn't been skilled enough to survive. To them death weaned away the weak and survival pushed the strong further towards their ultimate destiny.
Saeren-Nin was born into this extreme and cruel Clan, and his training mirrored the harshness of their ideals. At the young age of seven he was torn away from his family, taken away by the Clan to begin his training. He was left alone in dark rooms for days on end, he would go a week without sleep, they would keep food from him; they were teaching him to survive with nothing, to need only his own will to function. They slowly robbed him of everything, forcing him out of the safety of the Clan's village and out into the wilderness to survive for a month. They forced the boys when they were merely fourteen years old to fight one another to the death, thus halving the size of the class in one swift movement. The tests remained at a constant level of harshness always, and after his twentieth year of it all he was ready to face his trials, the class having been caught down to only fourteen operatives by this time.
The final trials of the Klaviss Clan had been simple in nature, but had ensured only the best trained and most fit would succeed and carry on. Two were taken at a time, though unaware of the other, and told to hunt down the other being that occupied the same patch of wilderness they were left alone in. The game of cat and house that the Clan forced upon the Operatives were cruel, some of them realizing that they were hunting one another, and some not caring. Saeren-Nin had been one of those that had not cared. If he was strong he would succeed, if he was weak he would be killed. And to him he would have rather been strong and driven a blade through the hearts of everyone of his classmates than to be weak. Being weak simply was not an option.
And so, being driven by a clear desire to live, Saeren-Nin had slain one of his classmates, a woman he had known for the past twenty years of his life. He had killed her as if she had meant nothing to him, because in all honesty she hadn't. His training had worked, and to him he had needed no one to get a long in this world, only himself. He had returned to the village carrying her cloak and her blades, things Operatives were instructed to never lose. Showing these things to his superiors, Saeren-Nin was enrolled as a fully honored and qualified Operative of the Klaviss. He was looked upon as a higher member of the Village now, not that it mattered, as soon as he started receiving his assignments he hardly ever had time to return home.
As the decades wore on, the assassin made a name for himself as someone who never missed. Once given a mark, Saeren-Nin would chase it down to the ends of the Earth simply to ensure it's destruction at his hands. It didn't matter the likelihood of success, nor how well protected the mark might have been. Enemies could be killed, walls climbed and defenses broken; the only thing that held men back was themselves. It was of that simple philosophy that Saeren-Nin never feared what he went up against, everything could be beaten, that was the simply, cold truth. No one lasted forever, the trick was to make an impression while you were around.
However, things began to change in his world as he was contacted with a message from his Clan, his mark was a high-ranking Angelic Strategist. It was one of the first times a mark had been that of an Angel. It wasn't that he had never killed one of his own, just that when they had it had been justified. They had been cowards or failures, perhaps even rebels and traitors. They had deserved death, but this man was loyal, his reputation known throughout the Ten Clans as a tactician who seemed to never lose. This had caused strife within the mind of the Assassin, unsure of whether the letter was a fake, or he was being used for some sort of political move. Whatever the motives where, he had a loyalty to his Clan and a tactician to kill.
The mission had been simple enough, almost too simple. The Angel whose name had been Meleki had been riding through the wilderness with his bodyguards. All of them had been on horses, all of them riding in a loose formation. From his vantage point, hidden by the darkness and the brush, he had looked on. His bow had been ready, the string taunt with the tension, the feathered shaft reaching back to his cheek as the weapon prepared to let loose. However, it had been at the last moment that Saeren-Nin had connected the dots. His eyes had seen the leather bindings around the hands of 'Meleki'. It was a decoy, a man being forced to ride this wide open path. It explained why the guards did not stay closer, they wanted Saeren-Nin to take the shot.
Seconds later Angels had burst all around him, weapons drawn and murderous intent visible in his eyes. Whoever had delivered the message from Klaviss to him had set him up. Letting loose the first arrow, the powerful shaft and punched the man off his feet and killed him quickly. However, he was an assassin, trained to hit and run not stand his ground and fight against the oncoming hordes of enemies. So he had run, taking off into the night. He had eluded the trackers and the soldiers that hunted him, doing what he had been trained to do. However, he still had a problem. Someone high up in his own Clan had wanted him dead, and they had almost gotten that dream fulfilled.
This had brought up a troublesome thought process within the mind of the assassin. Whoever had sent him his orders was high up enough to send out missions without needing the permission of any Council. That meant that if he were to return to his village, the very same faceless Angel that had attempted to kill him once would have a perfect opportunity to do so again. However, he knew the soldiers would report that he had escaped, and in doing so he was almost certain the Klaviss Clan would label him a coward and a deserter, meaning Agents he had trained alongside, and even some he had helped train would soon flock after him. He had been stuck between a literal rock and hard place.
Fleeing to an Oasis that the Klaviss Clan told their operatives about, but one that wasn't too well known in the grand scheme of things, the Angel had hunkered down. He knew it would be a few weeks before the message was relayed back to his village and Agents could be mobilized against him. Until then he could hide here, avoiding their search parties and anything else that might stumble upon him. However, while hiding out here something else strange had happened. In one tremendous moment the sky had seemed to tear apart and the world had felt as if it would end.
And the next he had woken up in a different world. A world far different from his own. His first thoughts were what new treachery was being played against him, then he had learned of other Angels. It simply left him with one difficult decision; did he trust them and go to them, or remain in hiding. Where they ones who knew of his attempted assassination of Meleki? Well, the fact was he couldn't survive in this new world on his own. The fact was he knew he would go to his brethren, the question simply was would it be worth it in the end.
Personality: Saeren-Nin is a clever man, simply put. Before attacking a problem, he has no qualms with staying back to study the entire situation. He has a strict sense of patience ingrained in him that has allowed him to easily be one to stand back and let situations carry themselves out as he waits for the opportune moment to strike out. Distrusting, smart, merciless and possessing a hard exterior, Saeren-Nin is the model example of the kind of assassins the Klaviss Clan creates, both through his thinking and actions.
Pictures:
Scimitar- andreas.blicher.info/images/Scimitar.jpg
Cloak and Armor- www.lrpstore.com/uploads/images_products_large/549.jpg
Dagger- www.lorifactor.pl/noze/n63.jpg