Appearance:

Human:

Dragon:

With a more black undertone to his skin and one green streak along his back that glows in sync with his breath.

Name: Typhus Reaper

Nicknames: Tiph.

Age: 829, appears to be about 22.

Gender: Male

Orientation: Unsure.

Marital Status: 'Slut' [single and fucks around].

Height: 5’9”.

Build: Slim but well-toned.

Species: Dragon.

Rank: Prince (lost, abandoned, family (mostly?) deceased.) (He keeps this a secret).

Family: After throwing him out of their home for ‘committing the worst sin possible’ in their family, young and barely capable of surviving on his own, while he was away, their mighty castle fell to war between them and another, much stronger ruling class. There was supposed to be an alliance between them all, however, out of nowhere, they broke it and attacked three other royal families before his own.

Occupation: Explorer/Discoverer/Scholar. Which means he goes around, discovering and documenting new animal species, plant species and places, constructing maps and putting together encyclopaedias for the most prestigious group of scholars around. He lives with them, but sometimes he doesn’t come back for days on end, as his occupation requires of him. Sometimes he even takes months-long voyages to make more comprehensive maps of their world.

Personality: Laid-back, relaxed unless provoked, his deceivingly pacifistic facade hides a deeply buried hunger for death, murder and an insatiable blood-thirst. Ruthless, vicious and brutal to the very end, they come from the fact that he was born into the lineage he was thrown right out of. The most hostile and ‘insane’ of dragons.

On the surface, he’s clearly intelligent, logical and even gives others a sense of peace and relaxation from how easily he takes things and his pretty chill outlook on the world and life itself. Never one to be manipulated emotionally, as he keeps those locked away as something sacred, only to be brought out by someone extremely special or by the effects of arts and stories. Although he seems very neutral all the damn time, when he’s alone reading, painting or if he happens to come upon a piece of art done by someone else as he goes through ruins of ancient places, he stops for a whole ten minutes just to admire it. Some things he holds very precious to his heart, but he still hasn’t found one person worthy of his affections. He mostly devotes his life to knowledge and is addicted to the thrill of discovery, which is why he does it so often. He only accepts payment for it because he needs someplace to live. He seems generally confident and sometimes a little arrogant, but it feels like it’s rightfully his own. Has natural leadership skills and rarely ever respects people without a very good reason for him to do so. Either way, his manners are excellent, a mixture of ancient politesse and what his current family taught him. Has serious trust issues and it shows from his tendency to avoid getting close to basically anyone. In fact, the only person he tells everything to is an imagined version of his brother, who… Lives in his head, and he can see him as a sort of wilfully created hallucination. Oh and… He hates it when people think they have any authority over him. Also seems pretty distracted quite often, as if he’s looking at things that cannot be seen by others.

Biography: Born to a king and queen of a certain type of dragons known as The Reapers in human legends about them, he was the last child they would have after a slightly older sister and a much older brother. His brother, Vindium, although seemingly completely emotionless, always tried to take care of him and make him stronger, also helping him to manage his apparently immense powers. His sister, Adelind, was a lot more affectionate due to being one of few born to that race of dragons whose sole purpose in life was to heal other dragons and help them grow more powerful, all while showing them how to balance their inner magic. His brother often took him out since he could walk and started training him as harshly as one could possibly get, often coming home with tens of scratches, cuts and wounds along the young dragonling’s body, which his sister would tend to.

The reason why his siblings took such great care of him was that their parents had been barely able to devote any time on their firstborn, and it was even harder for their second child. She, despite being younger, helped her brother develop better emotionally and soothed some of the insane rage within himself. After they grew closer, he stopped going on massacres just for the sake of killing–and switched them for hitman jobs. When Typhus was old enough, he was to follow in this path of seeking out victims and destroying them. As he grew older, the victims became more on the level of opponents, and his unforgiving training came in extremely handy. Of course, being a part of this family meant every single one of them had a certain hunger for murder, never feeling satisfied with life unless they killed at least one person. Which is why they had professional trainers of ages so ancient, it was a sort of mindfuck to look at their apparently rather young bodies. But their wisdom showed with every lesson, every word, every technique. There were three trainers in total, and the last one in particular Typhus held in great respect and utter veneration. He did not only teach him how to fight, how to kill in one move and how to keep his magic in his power reserves for as long as possible, he also taught him things about life that his father was always too busy to teach him. And, honestly, he doubted he even knew half of it.

Hundreds of years pass. The dragonling is turning out to be more powerful than his two siblings combined. Of course, that was no surprise to his parents, as they had been told of a prophecy from their most trusted oracle that their third son would be one of the most powerful dragons ever born.

Excited to be the parents of such a beast, they put everything they had into bringing him to life, and then training him to his full potential.

Even if it meant he would go completely mad.

After years of mistreatment, Typhus found out about the oracle’s prophecy. In his ‘fourteenth’ birthday (600 years) they had the usual ceremony of properly acknowledging him as a prince, where he was dressed in their fancy, gold-and-white robes, worn proudly on his small but fairly toned figure as he stood with confidence in the centre of the darkened hall, where all the people of the kingdom and distant family members were present to celebrate his ‘ascension to the throne’. After the crown was placed atop his head, a black iron crown with rubies all over, he was taken to the secret, underground quarters where his siblings had been before. That room… It changed him forever.

Stripped down to his underwear, he was restrained in the middle of the room, forced on his knees in the centre of a circular platform covered in some sort of magical symbol drawn with weird ingredients, one of which was the blood of a demon. Black as tar, and the entire torchlit room stank of something putrid. Cloaked and hooded, his father stood right outside the smaller, inner circle he was trapped in, and with one swift movement… Forced a branding iron right into the centre of his son’s chest, causing his insides to burn for literally six hours, sending his heart rate into overdrive until he finally released the hidden magical storage that was just right beneath his cardiac cavity–exploding and making place for the constant suction of powers from the spirits of the dead floating around them all the time–bursting in a suffocating release of a reverberating wave that spread for miles in every direction as the boy turned into a majestic, humongous dragon of epic proportions. Vicious and enraged, the dragon fled through one of the walls (yes, through them, he broke it completely) and flew off, finding the Tower of the Oracles and killing, in a bloodthirsty rage, every single one of them. He made sure to eat the one that predicted this thing all along, taking her essence into his system and gaining the ability of foresight, but it only comes out when he’s in serious danger or he’s extremely stressed out about something, and only in his dreams. He has no control over it.

After that, despite being something that was supposed to be the best thing to ever happen to his parents, with a tattoo that left his skin looking burnt and aching for eternity right in the centre of his chest (slightly to the left, over his heart), Typhus was cast out of the kingdom, never to be welcomed again.

He had returned to check on his siblings when he heard of the war, but he found no traces of them in the aftermath. Releasing one of the most anguished screams he would ever produce in his entire lifetime into the night, he took to the skies and kept on flying until he was in a different nation altogether, where he went through months of trying to piece himself back together and find something to hold onto in his solitude. Nine months of the most fucked up shit imaginable took place here, mostly in his subconscious mind. Then one day, he was found by one of the scholars, and after they took him in and fed him and took such good care of him, they found he had such a passion for knowledge, such creativity, such intelligence that they hadn’t thought possible, and trained him in their ways and upon graduation (six months of training later), he became a scholar in his own right, and finding something else to fill his mind than constant terror and anguish, he stuck to the path of learning and learned how to become perfectly composed at all times. He makes sure to hide the darker side of who he is around humans (his current family especially) and pretends to be just some genius who wants to know everything about the world.

Of course, this means he’s still immensely powerful, and he sometimes goes away just to train (wakes up very early every morning and finds a desolate field), but the lack of murder and enemies cause his magic to lay slightly dormant, and that sometimes torments him. He is highly susceptible to mental breakdowns (going absolutely fucking berserk) because of magic buildup, and when that happens, well…. The world could burn and he wouldn’t care. He wakes up without a single trace of a memory of the incident(s), but he recovers his memories slowly over the course of the next several days. So he always knows what he’s done.

Whenever he even gets close to being irate nearly all the time, he goes away to unleash steam until he’s soothed and returns to his home where he does his thing just like normal.

Skills and Abilities: Other than all the mastery of his magic that his trainers and siblings gave him, as well as his scholastic and explorer and survival skills, he has learned to play the violin, the one thing in the entire world that really resonates with his feelings and puts his mind to rest. He plays it both alone and in front of an audience, but mostly the former, and the fluidity in which he performs makes it seem like he and the violin were created for each other. Speaks Greek and Latin and some unnamed ancient dragon tongue.

Association: Exerevnités Syndicate

Combat:

Weapons: Only uses magic and hand-to-hand combat.

Range: Long and short.

Abilities: (tbe)

Magic: Necromancy mixed with something called Death Magic, which implies many things (to be explained).

Element: ‘Life’ and ‘Death’.

Physical Characteristics

Piercings: Upper left ear, a simple black Industrial piercing that ends with a dagger made out of a special crystal at the top. Something his brother gave him that he never takes off. Other end comes out through the edge of the ear closer to the back of the head, in a sort of diagonal line.

Tattoos: One on his chest from his past:

(This is the same shape the magic circle took)

another one on his forearm done by him to remind him of who he is now (the symbol of the syndicate):

Hair Colour: Green, black and purple, with pale blue tips here and there.

Hair Type: Straight, shaggy.

Eye Colour: Red (changes to half obsidian half green or completely grey)

Teeth: Sharp, like a dragon’s, even in human form.

Vulnerabilities: Ears, neck.

Birthmarks: The Reaper Lineage mark on the back of his neck, to show his presence in the realm of the dead since birth:

Blood Type: ?

Martial Arts: Dragon-influenced MMA.

Vincious Macabre