- Joined
- Jul 7, 2018
- Messages
- 147
- Reaction score
- 579
- Points
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〘 given name. 〙Paschalis Argyris / Πασχαλης Αργυρης.
〘 gender. 〙Male.
〘 race. 〙Woaden Ailor of Etosian-Byalan descent.
〘 weapon of choice. 〙A rusted spear and an old hand-me-down crossbow.
❛ ━━━━━━・❪ ☩ ❫ ・━━━━━━ ❜
〘 29 + 5 proficiency points. ∬ as in line with faust's age. 〙
《 body fat. 》 Lᴏᴡ ʙᴏᴅʏ ꜰᴀᴛ.〘 languages. 〙
❛ ━━━━━━・❪ ☩ ❫ ・━━━━━━ ❜〘 eye color. 〙a dull, carob brown.
〘 hair color. 〙black.
〘 hair style. 〙tied down into a messy braid, or pinned up into a bun on his leisurely hours.
〘 complexion. 〙a sickly olive tan.
〘 attire. 〙leather hunting gear, and his lantern.
〘 height. 〙5'8. ┊172.72 cm.
I. / Faust's face could be easily described as 'sharp', though mainly bony, an angular shape to his skull. The bridge of his nose arcs outwards, if not covered up by his mask. At his best, he appears average, blending into the crowd.
II. / Stemming from years of work, he retains a build of flexibility, an athletic build. There's not much brawn to his weight, and could easily be outmatched by any muscular man in terms of strength, but makes use of his ability to dash and roll if it comes to it. He stands around 5'8, with an average amount of fat and a decent amount of scars. Few remain upon his shins and a stab upon his thigh. A slash across his gut, and the remains of a broken toe from an old kidnapping. Upon his pectoral lays a a handprint seared into his flesh, tattered in intricate, Kathar-like patterns, and on his tailbone, void carvings. He doesn't like either.
III. / If he were to be honest, his Darkward garb is as formal as he's capable of going. Much of his clothing consisted of rags he'd have sown together by the local tailor, or just retailed clothes sold for half the price. He never particularly cared for clothing since he'd gotten his usual set of clothes, and while he'd been earning enough funds to support himself on a standard level, he rarely changes. With his hat gone, he keeps himself in gambersons and leathers to keep himself from being vulnerable. Interestingly enough, whatever the case is, he always carries around a lantern by his side. With three or so candles, and only one lit.
IIII. / Faust almost always speak in a low voice, often muttering words and never speaking up higher than he needed to. He's prone to rambling, going off topic from his original sayings, and could be seen to be very apologetic.
❛ ━━━━━━・❪ ☩ ❫ ・━━━━━━ ❜Ⅰ.〘 trope. —『 a hunter of beasts. 』
—〘 imperialization. Pascal Argyris ┋ alias. Faust Sokolov. 〙
〘 age. 〙Twenty-nine years.〘 gender. 〙Male.
〘 race. 〙Woaden Ailor of Etosian-Byalan descent.
〘 weapon of choice. 〙A rusted spear and an old hand-me-down crossbow.
I. / Faust is a foreigner to Regalian lands, having been in Tirgunn for so long. The man feels deracine to his location, feeling abandoned if not for the companions he's been forced to harbor for survival's sake He stands as a lower-class, at the moment he's sanctioned under the Graywitch guard, and carries on a .. Decent lifestyle.
II. / Faust was born to a mother and father as a bastard child. Born on the outskirts of Rumvalia though was whisked away to Etosil by his mother. He was accompanied by two half-siblings. He never was able to bond with them much, and served no other purpose than to compare himself to. At the moment, he's sure that he has other relatives around, but pays no attention to the status of his family besides his mother. He writes to her often, and advises her to leave her home to find better things.
III. / He'd like to dabble in the fine arts. He occasionally attempts to paint on a canvas, but very rarely does he approve of how his pieces turns out. Like many things, he's not confident in his own skill, but he works on it. He enjoys sketching still-lives, though, even if most of them suck.
II. / Faust was born to a mother and father as a bastard child. Born on the outskirts of Rumvalia though was whisked away to Etosil by his mother. He was accompanied by two half-siblings. He never was able to bond with them much, and served no other purpose than to compare himself to. At the moment, he's sure that he has other relatives around, but pays no attention to the status of his family besides his mother. He writes to her often, and advises her to leave her home to find better things.
III. / He'd like to dabble in the fine arts. He occasionally attempts to paint on a canvas, but very rarely does he approve of how his pieces turns out. Like many things, he's not confident in his own skill, but he works on it. He enjoys sketching still-lives, though, even if most of them suck.
❛ ━━━━━━・❪ ☩ ❫ ・━━━━━━ ❜
《 Puretek Combat Skill. 》 +12 Iɴᴠᴇsᴛᴇᴅ.
《 Crossbow Combat Skill. 》 +12 Iɴᴠᴇsᴛᴇᴅ.
《 Pole-arm Combat Skill. 》 +5 Iɴᴠᴇsᴛᴇᴅ.
《 Alchemy. 》+5 Iɴᴠᴇsᴛᴇᴅ.
〘 10 talent points. 〙《 Crossbow Combat Skill. 》 +12 Iɴᴠᴇsᴛᴇᴅ.
《 Pole-arm Combat Skill. 》 +5 Iɴᴠᴇsᴛᴇᴅ.
《 Alchemy. 》+5 Iɴᴠᴇsᴛᴇᴅ.
《 Stealth Rogue Training 》+10 Iɴᴠᴇsᴛᴇᴅ.
〘 10 hobby points. 〙《 Visual Arts. 》 +5 Iɴᴠᴇsᴛᴇᴅ.
《 Hunting Arts. 》 +3 Iɴᴠᴇsᴛᴇᴅ.
《 Culinary Arts. 》 +2 Iɴᴠᴇsᴛᴇᴅ.
〘 build. ∬ Pʜʏsɪᴄᴀʟ sᴛᴀᴛ: 20. 〙《 Hunting Arts. 》 +3 Iɴᴠᴇsᴛᴇᴅ.
《 Culinary Arts. 》 +2 Iɴᴠᴇsᴛᴇᴅ.
12 * .5 = 6 + 12 *.5 = 6
6 + 6 = 12 + 8 = 20
《 body shape.》 Sʟɪᴍ.6 + 6 = 12 + 8 = 20
《 body fat. 》 Lᴏᴡ ʙᴏᴅʏ ꜰᴀᴛ.
《 etosian. 》Nᴀᴛɪᴠᴇ, Fʟᴜᴇɴᴛ.
《 byelle. 》Nᴀᴛɪᴠᴇ, Fʟᴜᴇɴᴛ.
《 common. 》 Iɴᴛᴇʀᴍᴇᴅɪᴀᴛᴇ, ɪʟʟɪᴛᴇʀᴀᴛᴇ.
〘 special traits. 〙《 byelle. 》Nᴀᴛɪᴠᴇ, Fʟᴜᴇɴᴛ.
《 common. 》 Iɴᴛᴇʀᴍᴇᴅɪᴀᴛᴇ, ɪʟʟɪᴛᴇʀᴀᴛᴇ.
《 Milôt bloodbline. | inactive 》 ᴠᴀᴍᴘɪʀɪsᴍ.
i. Vintar Born I , II
ii. Illuviation I
iii. Mind Wall I, II, III, IV
iv. Flux Shift, V
v. Soul Burden I
vi. Sustenance Gift I
vii. Cursed Draw I
ii. Illuviation I
iii. Mind Wall I, II, III, IV
iv. Flux Shift, V
v. Soul Burden I
vi. Sustenance Gift I
vii. Cursed Draw I
Faust disassembles into a paper-mache like form with a purple tint, appearing drawn and glued together with separate layers of painted paper. This is only an aesthetic, and he functions as he would a normal person, despite lack of volume or mass. His head bloats into a grotesques shape, without nose, mouth or ears- but many more eyes. It expands beyond his shoulders into a disgusting mass of flesh. This is not as vile as it would had been if he were not unrealistically saturated and rendered into painted pieces of paper, of which these appear as flat paintings covering up around the other.
This form shows Faust dragging his spear along the ground. Every time it beats against a pavement, it makes the sound of a church bell. Unless on holy ground, it will leave a trail of drawn bile. If Faust is injured, the limb of the caricature does not bruise or bleed, but crinkles and tears. This is, again, an aesthetic. It's arsenal will become similar in which they appear like paper-mache, but return to 3D shape once disarmed.
This form shows Faust dragging his spear along the ground. Every time it beats against a pavement, it makes the sound of a church bell. Unless on holy ground, it will leave a trail of drawn bile. If Faust is injured, the limb of the caricature does not bruise or bleed, but crinkles and tears. This is, again, an aesthetic. It's arsenal will become similar in which they appear like paper-mache, but return to 3D shape once disarmed.
❛ ━━━━━━・❪ ☩ ❫ ・━━━━━━ ❜
〘 hair color. 〙black.
〘 hair style. 〙tied down into a messy braid, or pinned up into a bun on his leisurely hours.
〘 complexion. 〙a sickly olive tan.
〘 attire. 〙leather hunting gear, and his lantern.
〘 height. 〙5'8. ┊172.72 cm.
II. / Stemming from years of work, he retains a build of flexibility, an athletic build. There's not much brawn to his weight, and could easily be outmatched by any muscular man in terms of strength, but makes use of his ability to dash and roll if it comes to it. He stands around 5'8, with an average amount of fat and a decent amount of scars. Few remain upon his shins and a stab upon his thigh. A slash across his gut, and the remains of a broken toe from an old kidnapping. Upon his pectoral lays a a handprint seared into his flesh, tattered in intricate, Kathar-like patterns, and on his tailbone, void carvings. He doesn't like either.
III. / If he were to be honest, his Darkward garb is as formal as he's capable of going. Much of his clothing consisted of rags he'd have sown together by the local tailor, or just retailed clothes sold for half the price. He never particularly cared for clothing since he'd gotten his usual set of clothes, and while he'd been earning enough funds to support himself on a standard level, he rarely changes. With his hat gone, he keeps himself in gambersons and leathers to keep himself from being vulnerable. Interestingly enough, whatever the case is, he always carries around a lantern by his side. With three or so candles, and only one lit.
IIII. / Faust almost always speak in a low voice, often muttering words and never speaking up higher than he needed to. He's prone to rambling, going off topic from his original sayings, and could be seen to be very apologetic.
❛ ━━━━━━・❪ ☩ ❫ ・━━━━━━ ❜
The hunter falls along the line of Neutral evil, despite the fact that he believes him to be nothing of the corrupted sort. Instead, it's because of his blind faith in his zealotry that drives him to do evil. It's the idea surrounding his empathy-driven hunts that lead him down his path, convincing himself that this is the right thing, no matter whose blood it is that's drained down the cobblestone street. Perhaps in due time, he'll resemble a beast himself, but despite his lack of ill-will, his horrid demeanor tends to set off the trope of neutral evil.
ⅠI.〘 archetype. —『 sympathy. 』Despite his awful morality, he oft ends up coming off as a hopeful individual, who looks for opportunities in front of others, though disregards any for himself due to a lack of self-esteem. He truly does search for a way to fix the world as it is, or at least help those unfortunate, but as he never found a solution for himself, there's no good advice that he'd be able to offer to anyone else worst off than he.
ⅠII.〘 faith. —『 constant reincarnation. 』ISFJ-T┊ THE DEFENDER.
Unionism┊8/10.
Ⅰ.〘 outsider's glance. —『ᴀᴘᴏʟᴏɢʏ ɴᴏᴛᴇ. 』
— Casual first impressions don't work in his favor, quiet and foreboding commonly being the first key phrases to come to mind upon meeting. His cynical outlook on life gives way to his less-than-savory jokes, a fan of dark humor. To him, it's as close as a social interaction he'll ever be capable of managing, considering his apparent digression in conversation most of the time. His depressing ideology often gives him the look of a defeatist and dispersedly apologetic, an odd sight considering his work.
Ⅱ.〘 internal thoughts. — 『 ʜᴜɴᴛɪɴɢ ʀᴇᴅᴇᴍᴘᴛɪᴏɴ. 』— The hunter finds nothing worth mentioning when asked about himself, but in exchange for his apprehension - he finds tranquility in the Spirit. The Darkwald believes solely in the Synod and it's directions, willing to follow any word of the Creed that he believes is righteous, which he considers all creeds to be. Born a bastard child- from adultery no less- he feels and acts as though he was the reason for the scandal that led to his conceiving. Compelled from this urge to redeem himself from such foul circumstances, he sees to it that he complete the Spirit's work of ridding the weeds off of the face of Aloria. His actions are taken in hope that he be forgiven for whatever crime he'd done to deserve such a fate, because surely - it must've been something from a past life, wouldn't it? His belief is fierce, stopping at nothing to complete what he believes is something done right by his hands. He comes off as overly-forgiving, stemming from his rather unreasonable mood-swings that come from his black hole of self-esteem.
Coming from a childhoods worth of social ostracization, his fondness of isolation is only encouraged by his Darkwaldship. Despite his blithe, hopeful beliefs, he continues to run on bitter xenophobia for those abberating from the norm, his view of 'justice' materializing as cold steel, but intangibly out of sympathy. Through the sacrifice of those unwanted individuals, comes their own redemption. By entering the Afterlife, he frees those brandished with curses, liberating them into a proper, Ailor life in the next world over. It often gets him labeled as a lunatic, due to his relentless effort to 'save' the next person. A shadow stretches from this warped sympathy, in the shape of a subtle sense of superiority added. He doesn't realize how one-track he is. It occasionally passes by him that he should think about taking up different hobbies, but he also doubts his skills at being good at anything else but what he has now.
Ⅲ.〘 those who remain. —『 ᴍᴀʀᴛʏʀᴅᴏᴍ. 』Coming from a childhoods worth of social ostracization, his fondness of isolation is only encouraged by his Darkwaldship. Despite his blithe, hopeful beliefs, he continues to run on bitter xenophobia for those abberating from the norm, his view of 'justice' materializing as cold steel, but intangibly out of sympathy. Through the sacrifice of those unwanted individuals, comes their own redemption. By entering the Afterlife, he frees those brandished with curses, liberating them into a proper, Ailor life in the next world over. It often gets him labeled as a lunatic, due to his relentless effort to 'save' the next person. A shadow stretches from this warped sympathy, in the shape of a subtle sense of superiority added. He doesn't realize how one-track he is. It occasionally passes by him that he should think about taking up different hobbies, but he also doubts his skills at being good at anything else but what he has now.
— Whether it's serendipity or by having been stuck on the same side for long enough, close bonds are manageable to form, though may had been better off burnt or unmade. Paschalis is inexperienced with terms of friendship, often embarrassing himself as he stumbles through the very meaning. Regardless of whether he's aware of it or not, his shell tends to crumble in face of a genuine friend. In exchange for his warmth, they tread a thin line between protection and paranoid reactions. The man holds possessive guard over his friends, haunting them.
His solicitous behavior is not one condoned by ill-will, and it shows in the more lighter parts of his habits. His pride in himself isn't the highest, and as long as he's certain it's for a just cause he'd sacrifice himself for the better of his friends, assuming that they'd do the same for him.
Ⅳ.〘 moral compass. —『 ᴋᴇᴇᴘ ᴛʜᴇ sᴛᴀᴛᴜs ǫᴜᴏ.』His solicitous behavior is not one condoned by ill-will, and it shows in the more lighter parts of his habits. His pride in himself isn't the highest, and as long as he's certain it's for a just cause he'd sacrifice himself for the better of his friends, assuming that they'd do the same for him.
— He lines in with Neutral Evil, but considers himself far from the definition. Paschalis believes himself to be a martyr, suffering turmoil to help the better. Though his job offers nothing more than skepticism burned into his brain, he does his best to assume the better of every situation in grim optimism. He'd like to help people, but with how things have been going, he lacks the outward trust to genuinely allow himself to do so.