{|ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀ - ɪɴғᴏʀᴍᴀᴛɪᴏɴ|} Full Name: ██████ Given Name: ‘Vitus.’ Race: Summoned Shade Spirit | Greater Spirit | Zeměvčel Ailor Age: Contracted on 3|17|311. » ʙɪʀᴛʜᴅᴀʏ || ʟᴏsᴛ ғʀᴏᴍ ᴍᴇᴍᴏʀʏ Gender: Male. Eye Color: Vibrant, spectral green. {|ᴄᴏʀᴇ - ᴄᴏɴᴄᴇᴘᴛ|} A casualty of a war he had no interest in fighting for, ‘Vitus’ so he has been dubbed, is a Shade previously having lived the life of a mundane peasant, who worked his way up the ladder to finally acquire himself a way free from the Beyond, and in his return, has gained a penchant for violence far stronger than any he’d had as a mortal. CONTRACTED TO: Ilsevel || Per the terms of his contract, in return for being bound to Ilsevel, he is promised violence and bloodshed in whatever manner he chooses, both for her benefit, and his- as long as he keeps her from harm. || 》══⤐ | » ⁎ « | ⬷——<◈>══════<⫷⥽✥⥼⫸>══════<◈>——⤐ | » ⁎ « | ⬷══《 || ████████████████████████████████████████████████ ████████████████████████████████████████████████ || 》══⤐ | » ⁎ « | ⬷——<◈>══════<⫷⥽✥⥼⫸>══════<◈>——⤐ | » ⁎ « | ⬷══《 || {|ᴘʀᴏғɪᴄɪᴇɴᴄʏ - ɪɴғᴏʀᴍᴀᴛɪᴏɴ|} Fourteen point pool. || ∘ |[ 0 ]| sᴛʀᴇɴɢᴛʜ ∘ |[ 4 ]| ᴄᴏɴsᴛɪᴛᴜᴛɪᴏɴ » sᴇᴄᴏɴᴅ ᴡɪɴᴅ ᴘᴀᴄᴋ » ᴅᴇʙᴜғғ ᴇɴᴅᴜʀᴀɴᴄᴇ » ʀᴀɢᴇ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛᴇʀ ᴘᴀᴄᴋ » ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴄᴇᴘᴛɪᴏɴ ᴘᴀᴄᴋ ∘ |[ 0 ]| ᴡɪsᴅᴏᴍ » ᴀʀᴄᴀɴᴀ sʜɪғᴛ ᴘᴀᴄᴋ [ғʀᴇᴇ - ᴀɪʟᴏʀ] ∘ |[ 7 ]| ᴅᴇxᴛᴇʀɪᴛʏ » ᴄᴜᴛᴛʜʀᴏᴀᴛ ʙᴀᴄᴋsᴛᴀʙ ᴘᴀᴄᴋ » ᴄᴜᴛᴛʜʀᴏᴀᴛ ᴛᴀʀɢᴇᴛ ᴘᴀᴄᴋ » ᴄᴜᴛᴛʜʀᴏᴀᴛ ᴅᴏᴅɢᴇ ᴘᴀᴄᴋ » ᴄᴜᴛᴛʜʀᴏᴀᴛ ʀᴇᴠᴇʀsᴀʟ ᴘᴀᴄᴋ » ᴄᴜᴛᴛʜʀᴏᴀᴛ ᴇᴠᴀsɪᴏɴ ᴘᴀᴄᴋ » ᴄᴜᴛᴛʜʀᴏᴀᴛ ᴛɪᴍᴇʀ ᴘᴀᴄᴋ » ᴅɪʀᴛʏ ғɪɢʜᴛᴇʀ ∘ |[ 3 ]| ᴍᴀɢɪᴄ [ᴏʀᴅɪᴀʟ] » ᴛᴇᴄʜɴɪϙᴜᴇ ᴘᴀʀʀʏ ᴘᴀᴄᴋ » sɪɴɪsᴛʀᴀʟ ʟᴇᴀᴘ ᴘᴀᴄᴋ » ʀᴀᴅɪᴀɴᴛ sʜɪᴇʟᴅ ᴘᴀᴄᴋ » sɪɴɪsᴛʀᴀʟ ɪᴍᴘʟᴏᴅᴇ ᴘᴀᴄᴋ [ғʀᴇᴇ - sᴘɪʀɪᴛ] ∘ |[ 0 ]| ᴄʜᴀʀɪsᴍᴀ » ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇxᴛ ʟɪɴɢᴜɪsᴛɪᴄ ᴘᴀᴄᴋ [ғʀᴇᴇ - ᴀɪʟᴏʀ] {|ᴀᴅᴅɪᴛɪᴏɴᴀʟ - ᴀʙɪʟɪᴛɪᴇs|} ∘ Spirit Traits » Spirit-Power | Ailor Racial Traits chosen, sourced from origins prior to death. {|ʟᴀɴɢᴜᴀɢᴇs|} ∘ Common | ɪɴɴᴀᴛᴇ ∘ Geist-Speech | ɪɴʜᴇʀɪᴛᴇᴅ || 》══⤐ | » ⁎ « | ⬷——<◈>══════<⫷⥽✥⥼⫸>══════<◈>——⤐ | » ⁎ « | ⬷══《 || ████████████████████████████████████████████████ ████████████████████████████████████████████████ || 》══⤐ | » ⁎ « | ⬷——<◈>══════<⫷⥽✥⥼⫸>══════<◈>——⤐ | » ⁎ « | ⬷══《 || {|ᴀᴘᴘᴇᴀʀᴀɴᴄᴇ - ɪɴғᴏʀᴍᴀᴛɪᴏɴ|} In his current state he bears an appearance closest to what it was prior to death, but with minor adjustments as a result of his ‘Spiritual Revival.’ Down the tip of his fingers and crawling up his arms is a sickly, translucent green, vibrant against similarly deathly pale skin. Still youthful in appearance, streaks of stark white run through raven black, fluffy short-cut hair, as though another show of gradual decay. His eyes beam with a vibrant verdant hue, and he is adorned in something not far from peasant’s garments, just with minor personal flair, and the floral embroidering of yellow flowers across his tunic. He is well built, from the training prior to his death, and constantly of a vaguely translucent visage. || 》══⤐ | » ⁎ « | ⬷——<◈>══════<⫷⥽✥⥼⫸>══════<◈>——⤐ | » ⁎ « | ⬷══《 || {|ʟɪғᴇ - sᴛᴏʀʏ|} » ██████ was one half of a pair for most of his early life, raised in the region of Praag, in what were simple, but welcoming accommodations, lacking much to complain about, and easily able to say he found joy in the life he had. He had various hobbies in his youth, spending his afternoons often trekking out into the woods to forage with his sister, ████, and later on taking an interest in studying architecture. » Things did not stay peaceful for long. As with time, calls for levies were made by their current rulers at the time, the Wirtemcaller Kingdom, being dragged away from his household to fight for a cause he hadn’t chosen. Whilst ██████ had little knowledge of how to fight, only having been familiar with basic practice he’d picked up in his free time- he was forced to learn fast, with an understanding it was either that, or death. » Despite his struggles, and despite his efforts- he had never had a choice to make in the first place. The time to be sent out had come, and with it, a tragic, and merciless end to what life ██████ had. He never even stood a chance. Or at least, that was how it had felt. ██████ suffered a fate, that left him to be inevitably forgotten, and to only exist from then on in the minds of his family, and his close friends. He was not to be saved by everyone, as in the end, he died as fodder. » ██████ finds new existence, in what ultimately is a shattered fragment of whoever he was in life. Still holding onto that sense of humor, one that he almost found as he fell to the floor, and was left to find just how he’d ended up border-line laughable. The sense of anger he’d felt, simultaneously- towards those that had doomed him in the first place. Segments of memories, half forgotten, and to be forgotten-- and half showcased in every action he’d take from then out. The anger spirals into motivation, and the motivation culminates in a clawing, festering desire to climb his way out of whatever hell he’d been dragged to, and make something out of himself. Anything. » On March the Seventeenth, 311 AC, ‘Vitus’ is called back to the living plane. He is contracted by an individual named Ilsevel, and at last, is handed the golden opportunity he’s been waiting for. A second chance.
