Tsalmaveth

[Tsalmaveth]

Tsalmaveth Basic Information Race: Symenestra Birthday & Age : 20 Year: 491 AV Gender: Male Weight: 105 Height: 5'5 Languages Language 1: Symenos (Blue) (Fluent) Language 2: Common (White) (Basic) Language 3: Fratava (Green) (Poor) Physical Description Summary : Long, feathery white hair that is bound and flows all the way down his back. Tight black leather is bound in chains around his fragile body. Hanging from his ears are two exquisite ruby earrings and upon his hand a small ruby which are a family heirloom given to him for his compliance with his fathers wishes. Deep red eyes under thin, fine eyebrows hold a inherited intelligent glimmer. Pale skin, bone white teeth. Character Concept A little look : Tsalmaveth is a magically gifted warrior, using his magic in animation to make up for his lack of skill with weapons. Imbuing his chain with the sentience of a snake gives further look into his personality. Cynical and subtle until provoked unto rage. He keeps a cool, almost chilly demeanor till his prey is weak and quivering before him. Tsalmaveth is a younger sibling of Dhalvasha and Dhalvorex, whom ran away with his young. Tsalmaveth father has charged him with the capture of both runaways, Tsalmaveth searches with cool precision in order to please his father. Character History Life before Light : Tsalmaveth was born as a runt, considered fragile and pathetic even for a Symenestra. He - if held to any other race - would be considered useless. Useless in combat, his only defining attribute was his overwhelming rage. Ferocity, cold and chilling like frost over a fresh grave, would shake through him if any were to look down upon him. Even from the moment hands grasped him from his mothers dying corpse his fangs gnashed at the very hands that brought him into the world. His eyes glowed a blood red, murderous intent gleaming in their depths.Where his brothers excelled, he failed utterly. He was horrible in combat, better than Dhalvasha, yet still not up to par with Dhalvorax. Although he was not prized for any of his skills, he was prized for the potential his spirit spoke of. He would not bend to the weakness his body provided, challenging even his father in attempts to prove his worth. He would slash, counter and bash till his body gave out and he collapsed. Even then, weak and broken from his efforts, he would gnash, squirm and scream with his eyes blood red with killing rage. Most had hoped that his form would grow with the potential his rage boasted, yet to no avail. His body kept to the weak and never grew to the fire burning his heart. His father grew to hate him, drifting more towards his eldest son whom showed such promise in all things brought before him. Dhalvyra even took from Tsalmaveth the decency of a true male name. Resentment against himself, against his brothers grew. Once, Tsalmaveth chose to rise to the atrocity his brothers skills had brought upon him. He sought to rise to heights in which his father would be proud of him, so he sought the protege. Dhalvorax lounged sleeply against a stone wall, staring endlessly into the distance not even deigning to notice Tsalmaveth as he approached. Fire kindled in the glowing embers, chilled fire spreading throughout his body. "Useless, ignorant Parasite. I wonder why you are so pampered, while true talent is squandered away in the shadows." He whispered, his words soft yet said in a way that they may as well have been screamed. Blood was eerily promised within the gaze Tsalmaveth gave his brother, alas the response given in return left something to be desired. Measuring the stiff, yet fragile form of his brother, Dhalvorex simply sniffed and spoke loudly, "You shouldn't travel this path, runt." Like cold fire, his rage went ablaze and laid waste to the last light of hesitation he had left in him. Leaping forth, he struck out wildly with his chain. The results were shockingly quick, moments after his attempt he'd feel the aftermath of the thrashing given to him. Broken bones shifted beneath his fragile skin, his brother staring disdainfully down upon Tsalmaveth. Leaning forward, Dhalvorex muttered softly in his siblings ear, "You can't kill nor harm, yet don't even strive to survive..." Straightening up, he walked away throwing one last comment over his shoulder, "Next time you challenge me, I will kill you." Shamed and left to eek out his woes upon the stone, Tsalmaveth dragged his way through the passage ways of his home. When at last he had regained what little strength he could claim his own, Tsalmaveth was revisited by the rage he had felt earlier. He was once again tossed aside and called weak. He was no weakling, he could feel it within him. He was more a warrior than that Parasite. Yet, he wasn't able to challenge him. How was he to prove his worth as a warrior? Shaking with barely controlled rage, Tsalmaveth thrashed with inner conflict. Tsalmaveth froze, sudden realization cast upon him. There was still one whom he could challenge, still one he could contend with for his fathers approval. Dhalvasha, whom was even worse than him with weapons. His hands gripped the chains, determination flowed through him warming the icy quake of his resentment. He felt within him the inevitable victory. Days went by as Tsalmaveth readied himself for the duel. One day, Tsalmaveth saw his brother wandering throughout the passageways, a distant look upon his face. He took his chance and struck from the shadows, lashing out with his chain. The resulting battle took longer than he expected, however his fathers result took only a few moments of his time. His father shunned him, apparently some disgrace had been done. His method, his very action lowering him further within the eyes of his father. Disgraced, shamed and angry to his utmost. He'd no idea what to do with himself, he was lost. The years after blurred for Tsalmaveth as he was left to his own devices and completely ignored by his people. He devoted himself to the study of magic, searching for ways to improve himself. He had failed in all ways conventional, so he sought the mystic for the strength he felt within him. One magic resonated with him quite well: Animation. He would toy with this magic, although he had been warned against such actions. It was this way he would make his mark on the world, he would make a perfect weapon for himself, one that would bring him to the praising gaze of his father. More time passed, more studying proceeded until his father called for his presence one morning. Exhilarated, he thought that perhaps his father had taken note of his deeds, taken note of his growing power. Yet, as he strode towards him the stern look of disapproval was clear. Steeling himself against the war of emotions that assaulted him, he bowed his head to his father waiting for him to speak. "I know you wish to please me, runt." The words hit him like thunder, rage so powerful it almost made a sound. It was evident his father could see the change as a small flicker of amusement played across his gaze. "Your brother has left with his young, stolen the infant from our web." His fathers words shocked him, almost breaking the cold mask that covered the raging emotions within. Still, unyielding in his cool front, Tsalmaveth lifted his head raising his gaze in a silent question, "Why have you brought me here?" Acknowledged with only a further hardening of his gaze, Dhalvyro spoke in a commanding tone, "You will find him. You will bring them both to me, so we may raise one and bring death to another." Tsalmaveth smiled inwardly, hope rising in his chest. Perhaps he could prove himself with this, maybe he could find a way to finally be what his father wanted. He could finally be the warrior he felt deep in the core of his being. "I coul--" His thought process was interrupted as his father spoke once again, "Do this, Tsalmaveth, and you will be in my good graces...I will train you as a warrior, I will teach you myself." Shaking with the profound impact those words had struck him with, Tsalmaveth nodded once as he shuffled out of the room. The sound of near silent laughter mocking him as he left. Anger flared up in him, his father had no trust that he would succeed in his goal. He was merely trying to rid himself of a nuisance upon the Web. His anger reaching its climax, he gnashed his fangs and swore an oath that he would bring both traitor and infant back to his fathers feet. Both crawling, both crying. Animation of Chains :   Skills Weaponry (Chain) 20 Animation 25 Acrobatics 10 Wilderness Survival 5   Lore Animating Weapons Maneuver: Chain Disarm Equipment and Possessions Leather, Night. 60GM Chain, Spiked. 25GM Family Heirloom: Small Ruby set (Jewel earrings, jewel hand ornament) 50GM Ledger 25GM Thread List