Basic Information (Required) Forgotten Name: Klaus Monikers: Taker Age: 91 Gender: Indeterminable Race: Indeterminable (Phantom Ailor) Sexuality: Ectoplasm Skill Information Forgotten - 12 Core 'To forget something valuable is akin to attempting to remember what you never knew.' Theatre Art - 10 Core Roguery - 15 Core Linguistics - 3 Core Perception - 10 Core Instrument Art - 6 Hobby Painting Art - 4 Hobby Body Shape No Physical Stat Slim Body Shape Extreme Low Body Fat Languages Deathspeech [??/10] (Ordial) 'Cutting whispers... Scratchy runes... A melody of death.' Common [6/10] (Free) New Regalian [7/10] (Birth) Leutz-Vixe [3/10] (Linguistics) Special Traits/Spells/Mutations Ethereal Shade Undeadism: Dead Shell III The Taker is a slender, loose silhouette of a figure, most closely like that of an Ailor, with one sickly green flame eye burning from within the black void of nothingness where a face would typically lie on a person. The only consistent feature of the Taker's mass is its ever-changing nature. The texture and appearance varies between billowing smoke, the scratchy markings of a black pencil or crayon, crumpled, sable paper, or even dripping ink. As the Taker moves, its body alters as apart of its ceaseless alterations, forming forth the features of monsters, or revealing pale green shapes resembling eyes or teeth. Typically bordering the abstract, the formations are like dramatized ideas of whatever lurks in the dark, from spiders, to beastly claws, to the abstract. Aspects of its body can become exaggerated, such as a limb lengthening as the bicep unravelled like loose twine, or appendages having an unnatural amount of joints. If the darkness engulfing the Taker ever departs from it, it reveals the fragmented pieces of blackened bone with strands of cloth and melted scrap of what was once armor hiding beneath. Far from a complete set of bones, the skeletal body includes little more than pieces of the arms and ribs, a broken skull, a portion of the jaw, and bits of ash and dust. The Taker typically has a violent reaction to extremely bright light or magical light - such as Martyr's Light or Cursing Light -, with the exception of both magical and mundane fire. Haunting I Arcane Mastery I Darkness IV Magic Sight III Roguery: Rogue Gift I Rogue Gift IV Wall Climb III Sleight of Hand Burglary Pack Visual Information (Required) Eye Color: An almost wicked, lime green. Hair Color: Hairless. Skin Color: Skinless. Clothing: Clothing is difficult to differentiate from the rest of the form. The tatters of burnt cloth clung to bone - scraps of sable fabric - is all that remains, if it can truly still be considered clothing. Height: 5'11 Visual Information (Expansion) The Taker's main defining traits is burning, green flame in the shape of an eye as the only tenant of the yawning cavity they have for a face, and their fluid - yet always black - appearance. They appear like a feeble humanoid, though many features are ambiguous, and unclear beyond speculation. Often, the Taker does not speak to those untouched by Bintaar's essence, namely other Undead. Though, their voice always sounds as though they are speaking in Shadetongue. Personality Choose your Character Alignment Chaotic Evil Mindless cruelty bordering actions without sapience, the Taker perpetuates their suffering endured unto others in spite, believing the only solatium to its death to be the agony of others. Though not always malicious toward others, it is rare for it to turn down the opportunity to further ruin the situation of the unfortunate. Choose your Character Personality Type INTP-T Logician Choose your Character's Religion 2/10 Unionism Mostly forgotten. Weaknesses Bright lights. Puretek. Life Story Spoiler Though much of Klaus' life has been pushed under by the blades of history, and have become a long since faded memory in the eidolon's mind, aspects of his life leading to his death - though they may flicker like a waning flame - will never truly leave. Born 218 AC to a New Regalian family in Calemberg, Klaus had his future of being in the military laid out for him well before he learned to walk, or even crawl. With no other son to offer at the time, he was raised with the intent of serving. On a typically unfortunate battlefront, the fortification Klaus was in caught ablaze, trapping the Ailor within the burning building with no hope of escape. As he prayed for safety, the building collapsed to rubble, the heavy stones trapping the man beneath the burning rubble. Klaus could not cry that he was beneath the weight of the fallen fortification, his larynx was broken beyond repair, and he held not the strength to free himself from the debris. The heat of the fire cooked him inside of his armor, and his mind throbbed as it struggled to remain conscious. The sound of the inferno morphed into the clicking and titterings of a swarm of insects, and rung in his ears even as they died to nothing more than ashes. He could hear the boots of others walk in the mud around him, and as they all soon departed, the sounds of the creatures of the woods scavenging what remained on the battlefield was all that kept him company. He could never see what made the sounds, be it a coyote or a beast, but the childhood tales of evil exaggerated each sound to the approach of death. Death, perhaps he dreaded its arrival, or grew mad at how long it took to take him. Pulled from the mortal coil, Klaus' Shade remained in Bintaar, the prickling sensation of heat and the terror of being without sight beneath the wreckage gnawing at him 'till the memory of his death could be remembered no more as a holocaust of flame and the blackest of nights. As the echoes of his past life faded, the emotions he had, the fear and the pain, begun to burgeon as anger. A distinct wrath at the tragedy of his death, that not a soul came to save him, nor had to bear the torment he endured. Eventually, his wrath dredged him out from death, but with a body long gone, and nothing to possess, Klaus manifested as the darkness that had haunted him. As most memories blurred, that which reminded the Phantom of its former life became objects of fascination. They were familiar, but their familiarity couldn't truly be pinpointed. Perhaps of curiousity, or fear of losing all semblance of the life it had, the Taker collects various trinkets and baubles from the scattered bodies in the wake of war and fights, a lone, black specter that wanders the silenced battlefields, taking rapture from watching those clinging to the last strands of life being extinguished amidst the blood and clay.
