Post by Benny on Jun 2, 2010 23:10:02 GMT -5
“And the LORD said unto him, Therefore whosoever slayeth Cain, vengeance shall be taken on him sevenfold. And the LORD appointed a sign for Cain, lest any finding him should smite him."
- Genesis 4:15
"... and when he falls, he falls like Lucifer, never to hope again.”
- William Shakespeare
Name: Locke Helios Stohlton
Alias; Ouroboros
Age: Nineteen and a half
Gender: Male
Species: Human
Occupation:
Allegiance:
Height: 5'8'' -- 14 hands/56 inches/4'8'' at the shoulder
Weight: 165 lbs -- ~600 lbs
Magical Abilities: Mild abilities of foresight that manifest in the realm of the subconscious; psychedelic dream vistas with gestalt blurs of color here and there, things that may eventually ripple into discernible images but more often than not remain indecipherable. For the most part, Locke's foresight is weak and undependable, and he never sees more than abstract schemas, flashes of sound and color that always end up appearing somewhere in his life, whether in the next few hours or after several years... creating an eerie déjà vu effect, like living in a vacuum where every day is exactly the same and only small details change.
Hometown → Howe, Sideris
Father → Atticus Stohlton
Mother → Lorcia Stohlton nee Cancilliere
Siblings → Sethos Stohlton and
Children →
Appearance: A hulking beast much like the giants that roam the haunted depths of Brumeveil, built with heavy shoulders and a long, sloping neck. The creature's face is thick and well-defined, with a long, wide snout whose lips are interrupted by the haphazard poke of curving teeth much like a boar; the nostrils are slitted and horse-like; his forehead is lengthy and quite broad, and peaks in a jagged mane of stark russet-red. His eyes are wide and handsomely colored in dull, rocky shades of green, the pupil haloed by slate blue. Although four pairs of horns also peak out of his forehead and mid-cheekbone, they're quite unable to be used as weapons - along with the bony plates of growth that lump across its muzzle - and are strictly for display.
However, most do not see the face beneath the mask Locke has, a hideous thing strapped wire-tight to his face, bound so taut in places the wire slices skin, so as to create an occasional effect of perpetual bleeding. (This, of course, gives him rather terrible depth perception, and he often has to incline his head in one direction only due to the angle of his eyes.)
The mane carries on down the neck and ends just before the withers, standing stiff and upright for the most part, but with a very slight and a natural leftward curve to the tips. Thick-boned with the promise of a powerful build, his skeletal anatomy quite similar to that of an equine, although the spine slopes down towards the ground and the shoulders are thicker, the forelegs more pronounced. Massive, cloven feet, comparable to an elk; each foot has four digits and a prominent dew-claw, all quite uselessly overgrown. Still in his awkward, scrawny boy stages, so he looks quite knock-kneed and not as impressive. A short but rather stocky looking tail protrudes from the croup, the end spaded by long strands of curly hair the same color as the mane. Shaggy furred on all parts of the body, especially on the chest, elbows, belly, and butt; the lengthier strands tend to drag on the ground and have a slight curl to them.
Curiously enough, strange burn marks are scrawled haphazardly on to the skin upon his back, and the fur grows patchily there - though generally, not a lot of people get close enough to look at it.
Accessories: A mask with an appearance similar to this and this; he wears it always, and it perches on his cursed form like a second face atop the forehead.
Theme song(s): Flowers From Exile by Rome.
Personality:
Unintentionally imposing. Locke was always a destroyer of a kid, but now that magnetism has been multiplied tenfold. He has a vibrant intensity about him, a liveliness fueled by an abrasive roughness like gasoline, rather than something productive. Constantly seems on edge, like a spark of electricity, spurred on mainly by a hidden reserve of perpetual anger and frustration - what am I, what have I done? Loud, static chaos, prone to standing stock still and hesitant one moment and then exploding into sudden chains of jagged movement.
Standoffish, headstrong and stubborn. Of the belief that he's right and knows everything there is to know, and totally resentful of any offerings of help directed his way. He's an ungrateful little snot most of the time, and still hasn't grown up or realized that there's no one to depend on anymore; having grown up in a noble household, he still expects everything to be handed to him. Holds grudges like you wouldn't believe. And most of the time endeavors to be the center of attention, as he's quite self-centered.
Locke is also brave to the point of being stupid when it comes to doing things like getting in fights or overleaping his boundaries. The kid thinks with his heart more than his head and it's gotten him in trouble way too many times to count... and of course, he seems to forget that he's a half-ton of ugly, scraggly beast - and that he's a shitty fighter anyways, having grown up spoiled and always second best to a vicious older brother, nevermind the fact that his cursed form is vastly different.
Can be quite offending at times, especially without meaning to. Locke has a knack for blurting things out without thinking it over, which makes for some cringe-worthy company. No tact, no subtlety. He's terribly inept at being social, and his isolation only fuels this further - he seems to have forgotten how to act around other living organisms.
Miscellaneous:
- Locke has been cursed by very powerful magic. This manifests in the slightly luminescent sheen of tattoos scrawled across the fur of his monster form (a shine visible in bright sun or moonlight, mistakable as natural sheen), and inked across his skin as a man.
- Masquerades at times as one of Brumeveil's mysterious giant monsters. He is very much a "sentient" being of sorts.
- May occasionally be transformed back into his original state - that of a man - but the window of time is very, very slim, and as time marches ever onwards, the durations are becoming less and less. Right now, it's perhaps twice each year: once at the half year mark, once at the new year mark. The only catch is that he becomes pretty much ass-backwards, losing his sentience - beyond feral instinct - and most communication skills... and thus the point is lost.
- Crows seem to have a particular affinity for the kid. He hates them, and will often flip out just trying to kill the fuckers - it's the noise they make that drives him absolutely bonkers.
"And Cain told Abel his brother. And it came about when they were in the field, that Cain rose up against Abel his brother and killed him. Then the Lord said to Cain, 'Where is Abel your brother?' And he said, 'I do not know. Am I my brother's keeper?' And He said, 'What have you done? The voice of your brother's blood is crying to Me from the ground.'
And now thou shalt be cursed from the earth which hath opened her mouth to receive thy brother's blood from thy hand. When thou tillest the ground it shall not henceforth yield unto thee her strength. A fugitive and a vagabond shalt thou be in the earth."
- Genesis 4:9-11
History:
- Born into nobility.
- Grew up for awhile as the youngest brother beside Sethos.
- Tagged along in doing a lot of stupid shit with his older brother, most of it mean spirited fun.
- Began to harbor a deep resentment after the birth of his youngest brother, Miltades, fueled further by Locke's odd dreams and both brother's boyish mocking for being a "freak" of nature.
- Sethos went off to military college, learning how to be a zeppelin sailor and navigator; he sent brief correspondences back home, but otherwise didn't remain in contact, and soon the letters ceased altogether.
- ... Which left Locke as at the helm of things, taking over Seth's role.
- Around the time Locke was seventeen, and Miltades eleven, Locke lured his younger brother into the forest; with a dagger in one hand and false promises in the other, the boy slew his brother -
- ... And under the enormity of what he'd done, with fear and horror and guilt and shame preying on his youth's mind, Locke fled into the Brumeveil forest and was swallowed whole by the green.
- Such an act would not go unpunished, however - for he was seized by a witch, who had witnessed the biblical sin of the boy, the child of Cain. She took the boy before her renegade compatriots, these ones vile and wild and blood-hungry like primeval monsters, and to his skin they took iron and ink. With fire, they carved sigils of shame and treachery; with magic, they bound him in black tattoos, shackles to seal the magic.
- The forest was a cathedral, and he was its disciple. As if by the touch of some unfathomable power, a presence without form and the divine hand of god himself, Locke was devoured whole by that forest and its odd, creeping horrors. But not in a physical sense, no, more in the mind, and even now he roams unfettered and haunted with dreams of restless, shackled memories - trying to figure out why, what.
