Dante (Much better than Kiri's)

[Halcyon Hero]

DANTE

Theme Song: No Excuses
Evil Angel
Raziel Theme: Bodies
Psycho

Name: Dante

Birthday: December 21 (Winter Solstice)

Age: 19

Race: Human

Sex: Male

Eyes: Ice Blue. Dante is a tad bit near-sighted, so he wears frameless eyeglasses to help him make out far away details. His natural eyesight is not bad enough to hinder him should he lose his glasses.

Hair: Blonde with streaks of light blue, shoulder-length.

Height: 5’ 11’’

Weight: 159 lbs

Weapons: Dante wears what appears to be a broken set of manacles on his wrists. The steel cuffs fit tightly around his wrists, and about a foot of chain hang from them. The last link on each chain, however, is formed into a small cross. Over time, Dante had these chains imbued with several permanent spells. When he wishes, the crosses on the ends of the chains will transform into two wide, curved blades. Second, the chains attached to the hilts will elongate or shrink as Dante wills, allowing him to swing the blades long distances. Lastly, although the blades appear stationary, they are actually constantly vibrating at an incredibly high frequency, allowing them to cut through almost anything weaker than steel.

The blades are about six inches wide and two feet long, with a curving edge. The guards are ice blue and shaped in the form of demonic wings, which flow down into a similarly blue curving handle.

Armor: None.

Strengths: Dante can move at incredible speeds (and even faster with his skates), and his agility is top-notch. His strength borders on the supernatural, and he is immune to ice and cold temperatures of any degree. Because of their high frequency, Dante’s blades are able to cut through almost anything weaker than steel.

Weaknesses: Dante’s ice magic is weak against fire, and his lack of armor leaves him open to easy injury. He cannot use his magic without first freeing up his hands to direct the spell, which means he must abandon any weapons he’s holding. If the surrounding area is overly dry or arid, then Dante's magic will drastically weaken, his ability to control the water particles in the air rendered useless. Raziel’s appearance heralds a complete abandonment of all sense and caution, often getting him in a very bad state very quickly.

Skills/Magic: Dante’s magic is centered around ice, but he has many other spells as well. Rather than a chanted incantation, Dante’s magic largely relies on a single spoken word or phrase followed by commanding hands movements, allowing him to quickly and easily cast spells.

Ice Magic: Dante’s ice magic works extremely quickly, and can freeze almost anything. It is also much stronger than normal ice, and extremely hard to break. Dante's ice magic works by controlling the water particles in the air, meaning that the strength of his magic will vary with the environment. His most common, powerful, and useful spells are listed here, but he has many more.

Ice Shield: Dante creates a thick barrier of ice, which will block most physical and elemental attacks (other than fire).

Ice Needles: Dante fires a rain of ice needles from his palm.

Hail Storm: Dante fills the sky with dark clouds, from which rains a strong hail of sharp ice.

Permafrost: Dante covers the surrounding area in a layer of slippery ice. Fortunately, he can still move normally on it.

Chill: Dante breathes a heavy “mist”, which quickly fills the area. The mist is cold air filled with ice crystals and flakes, and drastically lowers the temperature of the surrounding area very quickly, causing a multitude of affects of those within the “chill area”.

Freeze: Dante fires a blue beam from his fingertip, which will immediately freeze the thing it touches.

Misc Magic: Dante knows two other non-ice spells, both of which he uses often.

Augmentation: Dante can augment nearly any inanimate object, to a wide variety of purposes and effects. He can enlarge, reinforce, sharpen, and even change the shape of an object. For instance, a hairpin becomes a sword! A simple chain becomes a larger spiked chain! A piece of string becomes a rope! Dante carries many miscellaneous items on his person for this spell.

Repair: Dante can magically repair most broken inanimate objects.

Skates: Dante wears a pair of black Nike sneakers, but knows a spell to change them into two-wheel inline skates. The spell is a variation of the Augmentation spell, giving the shoes wheels and a hard metal covering. The skates are magically powered, allowing Dante to zip along at incredible speeds. They’re also magically reinforced, preventing any damage to them. Dante is amazingly skilled on them, able to perform any number of mind-blowing tricks and maneuvers.

Raziel: Within Dante there is another entity, named Raziel. Whenever Dante is pushed past his limits or in a very bad situation regarding strong emotions, Raziel will push past Dante’s consciousness and take control. Raziel brings with him a huge increase in power and speed, as well as an unparalleled level of viciousness and bloodlust. Raziel has absolutely no concern for any damage he might take or the welfare of others, and gives his all to obliterating anything in his way. He generally won’t outright attack anyone important to Dante unless he considers them worth a good bit of entertainment.

Appearance: Dante is tall and lean, with a toned, graceful body. It is moderately muscled, but not bulky, and angry, jagged scars cover his back, legs, and arms. His face conveys kindness, with smooth angles, a straight and narrow nose, and an easy smile. He has large, clear blue eyes, over which he wears rounded, frameless glasses, supported by golden earpieces. His bright blonde hair is shoulder-length and very thick, with small streaks of light blue running through it. It usually flows up and back in a flowing flame-like manner on its own when uncovered. He wears a wide headband, the pattern of which is blue and green overlapping stripes. Dante often wears a black winter beanie, at which times he will tuck his hair behind his ears.

Dante wears baggy black jeans, the ends of which are heavily frayed. A silver chain is hooked to a front belt loop in the jeans, with the other end tucked into his pocket. Above that, he wears a deep blue shirt, over which is a gray-white zip-up hoodie. A small silver dragon earring hangs from his left ear, and a pair of what appears to be broken manacles hang from his wrists, with about a foot of chain hanging from each one. Dante always wears a pair of black Nike sneakers. He also carries an iPod with an ice blue faceplate.

Whenever Raziel takes over, he immediately tears off the eyeglasses, headband, and beanie, his blonde hair turning black with a red tinge and flowing up wildly in a flame-like manner that is somehow different and more demented looking than normal. His face becomes twisted with a gleeful bloodlust, and his entire manner exudes insanity and danger. Raziel’s eyes are also different from Dante’s, the irises turning neon yellow and the whites turning black.

Dante’s face.
[img] http://i22.photobucket.com/albums/b3...o/Raziel20.jpg [/img]

Personality: Dante is always kind, although a bit withdrawn and shy. He is very confident in himself, but never arrogant. In battle, he is often cheerful and joking, but rarely insulting. But if a battle becomes serious, he will often become somber and extremely focused. Dante has a strong sense of justice, and never hesitates to help others. When facing a threat to something peaceful, he will become oddly serious and determined, and dedicated to preserving that peace. Although he doesn’t show it, Dante is afraid of Raziel, and feels shame and self-hate for housing such an evil thing. It also scares Dante that he doesn’t really know what Raziel is; whether or not it’s a demon, spirit, or just another side of himself. Whenever Raziel is revealed to others, Dante is inevitably cast out as a monster or demon, for which reason Dante hates himself all the more. Whenever he thinks about Raziel or his past, Dante will become quiet and depressed.

When Raziel takes over, the change is immediately noticeable. Raziel is utterly insane, bloodthirsty, loud, and arrogant. He loves carnage and bloodshed more than anything, and will completely obliterate anything in his way without holding back. He generally won’t attack people important to Dante, unless he deems them worth a good bit of entertainment. Whenever Raziel encounters a strong opponent, all of his maniacal qualities are enhanced, and he’ll try to drag out the fight as long as possible to get as much enjoyment as he can.

History: His bare feet scraped against the rough stone, cutting into his flesh despite the hard calluses, much as the chains cut into his shoulders. The metal links pinched and tore at his fingers, little rivets of blood running down from between the bony extremities. The boy arched his back as he struggled up the rocky slope, the weight of the ore cart mocking him as it caught on every snag and jut. The air around him was stiff and musty, filled a thousand scents of sweat, blood, feces, and ancient air. His blonde hair caked in dirt and sweat, the boy craned his neck up at the opening at the end of the mining shaft, seeming to thrust his nose as far out as possible. The opening was small—barely large enough for the mining cart—and the light that filtered down through it was minimal. Still, the boy snatched at that light and all it promised, and stuffed it away inside himself, turning it into a personal goal. He heaved, struggled, and fought towards the light, putting his every hope and desire upon it. His dirty feet, cut and caked with the mixed solution of blood and dirt, dug into the stony slope, his toes arcing and digging in as well. Finally, finally, the boy broke through the light. He fell onto even ground and collapsed, fresh air flooding his lungs and bright light flooding his eyes, blinding him.

Then his heaven became his hell. Unintelligible shouts rained upon him, followed by the cruel cracks and lashes of a heavy whip, the leather cutting deeper into his flesh than any jagged stone. Despair and devastation enshrouded the boy like a heavy cloak. Blows pounded against his side, forcing the boy to his feet. He opened his weary eyes to narrow slits and peered around for the heavy chains that had fallen from his hands. He found them nearby and tried to grab them, but found that he could not, his bloody hands gone numb with pain. The whip descended again, tearing away a strip of flesh. The boy bit his lip, drawing even more blood, but refused to cry out—it only encouraged the slave drivers. He forced his shaky fingers around the iron links and heaved himself to his feet, falling forward in a staggered march. The chains slipped through his bloodied hands, leaving them coated in crimson, but he wouldn’t—couldn’t let them fall again.

Finally, he came to the end, and he fell in a crumpled heap as the cart was passed to an elevator, which would take the mined ore to the surface. That was all the boy knew, that was all he could care. His world was trapped here, within the narrow, jagged mining shafts. His world cramped spaces, dim lighting, musty scents, and pure filth. His world was heaving, struggling, lashing, whipping, angry shouts, and mocking laughter. His world was pain. Rough hands seized the boy and dragged him off, disposing him in a dark cell filled with a dozen other slaves. The boy tumbled over and bounced against a wall, landing beside an older man comprised of mainly bones, skin, and shaggy hair. The man had soiled himself, but lacked to strength to do anything about it. The stench assaulted the boy’s senses like a weapon, causing his stomach to churn. His mind screamed for him to move away, yet his body merely twitched and lay still, too weak and worn out to even move. In the end, the boy could only curl into a ball, his shackled wrists crossed before his face and his bloody fingers dug into his dirty hair as he wished himself into oblivion.

<====}=0 – 0={====>

The boy heaved and pulled, as he had heaved and pulled for years. Everyday was the same cycle. Labor began early and ended late, with only a brief pause for a chance to down a small swallow of water and a bit of molded bread. Everyday his body was cut and torn, and hard calluses and scabs would form overnight. Everyday the previous days wounds would reopen, and the river of blood would flow from again his body. Everyday, for years. The boy wondered constantly why he had not yet died, and thought that he surely would any day. The mining site was a reversed multi-layered cake. Each level went deeper into the earth and branched off into a myriad of narrow shafts. Rope and pulley elevators carried ore carts to the upper levels, or went down to the developing levels. Although open to the sky, the bottom levels received little light, making the boy’s world one of twilight and shadows. He often wished to glance up at the sky, but never did. They were taught not to. The sky was something for free men.

Shouts greeted the boy as he stumbled into the dim light. Bowing his head and tensing his muscles, the boy tried to hurry along as quickly as possible. He always did, but he was never quick enough, the cruel whip always seeking him out and lashing him on quicker. So used was the boy to the pain, it took him several moments to realize that the whip had not yet struck him. It was then that he finally realized that the shouts were not the normal ones of anger and mockery, but ones of fear and desperation. For the first time in his life, the boy dared. He dared to drop his chains and look up. Men flooded the mining site, yet they were not the normal, cruel men that drove the slaves on with heavy whips and knives. They were different men, with all sorts of weapons, armor, and rag-tag uniforms. And the boy’s soul soared as he watched them plow through the slave drivers, breaking through each level and proceed to the next.

The boy was filled with hope. Every dream that he had ever had of freedom in his deepest sleep rushed to the surface. He leapt joyfully as the men broke through to the bottom level, streaming through the descending shafts and elevators. Tears streaming from his face, the boy ran towards his liberators, shackles outstretched. His look of joy was still stretched across his face as he flew backwards through the air, the heavy swipe catching him in the face and sending him flying. The boy hit the ground hard, but he managed to look up at the men that had torn apart his captors. The closest one, the one who had swiped him aside, strode forward. The boy’s “liberator” reached down and grabbed him by his manacles.

“Get up, boy. You belong to us now.”

The boy’s soul shattered.

<====}=0 – 0={====>

The boy stumbled along the road, freezing rain pelting his body in stinging pellets. Dried blood was caked in his hair and all across his body. His feet squished in the mud as he went along, and he steadily sunk deeper and deeper in the messy mixture. His manacles hung limp from his wrists, the chains broken about a foot down. Images of blood and violence flashed through the boy’s mind, some of them accounting for the numerous cuts and slashes marking his body. But despite the wounds, the boy couldn’t help but feel that the body caking his body was mostly not his own. Darkness swirled up to engulf the boy as he lay in the mud without even realizing that he had fallen.

<====}=0 – 0={====>

For the first time, the boy felt warmth. He had felt the heat of hard labor and stinging wounds, but never before the warmth of a thick blanket and crackling fire. He opened his eyes slowly, gazing through narrow slits at a setting only describable as cozy. The boy sat up, the heavy blanket falling away to reveal his chest. His body was covered in white, clean bandages, and he could feel an oozy salve beneath them. Even his face and head was wrapped in bandages. Then he realized that he was clean. His hair was actually clean and brushed, sweeping back in a manner that the boy had never thought it could. All of it was new to him. All of it was a first.

“Awake?”

A hair, ringed by red hair, appeared over the boy’s head, smiling brightly down at him. The boy arched his head back to fully view the person. It was a girl, only a few years older then he. Her face shape was similar to his, her chin-length hair a dyed red, with a single tuft of green at the front. The realization of what he was doing fully struck the boy, and he snapped his head back down, fear and thoughts of punishment racing through his mind. A soft hand feel on his head, and the boy wondered what type of beating he would receive as he squeezed his eyes shut.

“Hungry?”

The boy’s eyes snapped open and a tray was thrust out before them, a large bowl of soup resting on it. Steam wafted up from the deep brown surface, engulfing his face as scents comparable to heaven invaded his nostrils.

“Go ahead; it’s not poisoned,” the girl prodded, setting the tray down on the boy’s lap. Torn between years of ingrained training against partaking of such things and of disobeying orders, the boy could only stare at it. Finally, when the woman motioned towards the soup again, he grabbed the sides of the bowl and brought it to his lips, ignoring the spoon lying beside it on the tray. It was the most wondrous thing he had ever consumed in his life. It scalded his tongue, but the boy cared not, the delicious flavors and aromas flooding his being. Sleep once more overcame the adolescent as the last of the golden-brown liquid drained down his throat, and he couldn’t help but set the bowl back down on the tray as he fell back into unconsciousness.

<====}=0 – 0={====>

“You have magic, you know,” the girl told him, watching the bandaged boy down another bowl of soup with her hand resting in her hands. The boy set down the empty bowl, licking his lips and glancing up curiously up at her from beneath his bowed head. Morning light filtered in through the window over the bed the boy sat in, illuminating the cottage better than the fire had the night before. His head still bowed, the boy daringly gazed out at his surroundings as the girl continued.

“It’s wild still. Rather dangerous, actually. You need to learn to control it if you want to live safely much longer.” She thoughtfully put a finger to her lips and mused aloud, “Although, if you have wounds like those, I doubt that you have a very peaceful life as it is.” Her large brown eyes scanned the mummified boy thoughtfully. “Who are you anyways? Where’re you from?”

Warring instincts of answering when spoken to and of keeping quiet and inconspicuous fought within the boy, but he said nothing in the end, not even knowing how to explain himself. He had known nothing but being a slave, from the moment of his birth to now.

“What’s your name?” the girl asked, deciding to start simple. It was several long moments before the boy answered.

“I have no name.”

<====}=0 – 0={====>

The girl took care of the boy as his wounds healed, gradually prying deeper and deeper into his icy shell all the while. She introduced herself as Eve, a young earth mage living alone in the wild. She told the boy many things about herself and her life, yet never learned anything about him, although he broke through many of his ingrained habits and “training”. Many months passed before the boy told her openly of his slave life. Over time, the two grew closer, Eve teaching the former slave many things about the world and normal life, and the boy gradually overcoming the mental obstacles to becoming a normal person. He learned about many new emotions, and learned to welcome and properly express them as well. He even learned more about himself and who he was as a person, no longer bound by the chains of oppression and anonymity.

<====}=0 – 0={====>

Eve held her friend’s open palm in her own, running the fingers of her other hand softly over the creases and hard calluses. Her brown eyes were closed, her expression serene. The former slave absently pushed up on the bridge of his new glasses, licking his lips as he waited.

“December twenty-first,” Eve breathed softly, stroking the crease between his thumb and palm. “Thirteen years ago.”

“I’m thirteen?” the boy asked breathlessly. “When is December twenty-first?”

“Eleven days from now,” Eve answered, opening her eyes and smiling at the blonde-haired boy.

<====}=0 – 0={====>

The boy stuck his hands under his arms as he trotted up to the small hut he shared with Eve, the large load of chopped wood on his back light on his shoulders. He broke through the snow into the cleared section around the small dwelling, quickly depositing the bundle of wood into a lidded box and hurrying inside. Visual sight was lost to the boy, his pupils unable to quickly adjust to the surprisingly dim lighting. He knew the cottage’s layout by heart though, and was able to easily make his way around various obstacles to the small fire burning in the hearth.

“Eve?” he called out, crouching by the fire and pulling off his sneakers. Soft footsteps approached him from behind, and the blonde-haired boy craned his head over his shoulder. Eve stood behind him, a large platter held in both hands, some source of light the boy couldn’t see illuminating her face.

“Happy birthday!” Eve exclaimed, kneeling down a revealing a large frosted cake, adorned by numerous candles and sprinkles. The boy was at a loss for words. “I also have a present for you,” Eve went on, beaming.

“W-what?” the former slave asked, having never received a birthday gift before in his life.

“Your name.” Eve declared happily.

“My . . . name?”

“Well, you need one, don’t you? And I’m positive that I’ve got the perfect one for you.”

The boy had no answer.

“From today onward,” the young girl proclaimed, “you will be called ‘Dante’.”

“I . . . don’t . . . thank you,” the boy proclaimed Dante croaked out, tears running down his face. Eve was forced to hold the cake up above her head and Dante fell forward, wrapping his arms around her and burying his face in her stomach.

“There’s more,” Eve continued, setting the cake down the running her hands through Dante’s hair. “From today onward, I am going to teach you magic.”

<====}=0 – 0={====>

Dante lived with Eve for years, continuing to learn many things from her, including magic. Although Dante’s natural magic was of a different type than hers, Eve was able to teach him the basis of his powers, and intuition and creativity filled in the blanks. She also offered to remove the remains of his manacles, but Dante always refused, never giving his reasons for keeping them on. He continued to live with Eve for two more years, growing to love her (although in what way he could not tell you).

<====}=0 – 0={====>

“Eve?” Dante asked, stamping the snow out of his shoes. The hut was pitch dark, and Dante slowly made his way towards the kitchen table and the cabinets behind it. He fumbled in the darkness for matches and a candle, finally managing to produce light after a minute. He held the candle up, attempting to illuminate the dwelling as much as possible. It was empty. There was the table, and the bed, and the various pots, pans, and knick-knacks, but “Eve” was gone. Her clothes were in the armoire, and her books were on the shelves, but the feeling of “Eve” had gone.

“Eve . . . ? Where are you . . . Eve?”

<====}=0 – 0={====>

Dante waited six months for Eve to return, but she never did. Unable to wait any longer, he gathered up her personal affects and left in search of her, hungry for any hint of her whereabouts or reasons for her inexplicable disappearance. Three years passed, with only phantom murmurings and dead-end searches.

<====}=0 – Synopsis – 0={====>

Dante was born a slave, his origins unknown. He was forced to perform hard labor for many years, his life meaningless. It wasn’t until he was twelve years old that something broke loose in him, killing everything around him and allowing him to escape. Dante, nameless and without any sense of identity, was found bloodied and wounded by the fourteen year-old earth mage, Eve. Eve took Dante in, nursing him back to health. Without anywhere else to go, Dante lived with Eve for four years, learning many things from her about life, the world, and magic. Eve even discovered Dante’s true age and birthday, and gave him his name. He grew to love her, although in what way he could not say. Yet Dante was left alone once more, Eve inexplicably disappearing when he was sixteen. He set out after her, searching for any hint of her for three long years.

Battle Rank
Player: Halcyon Hero
Character: Dante
Innate Element: Ice
Overall Rank: VI
Strength: VIII
Defense: II
Elemental: VIII
Speed: IX
Skill: VII

[Zorolo]

Your characters succeed at having outstanding stats but defense again. Well, here goes:

Give some drawbacks to his magics, namely his Ice Dragon skill, since as of now, it seems remotely unstopable to weaker foes. Also, perhaps describe a bit more in depth how they work. To the swords, they're high density means they can be a bit to powerful, mostly given the fact they can, essentially cut through anything that can't be destroyed. Weaken that a bit too. Give it some rational limit. Lastly, expand strengths and weakness, because right now they're a bit bland, and his weakness don't balance out his super strength and super human speed.

Also, if I ever see that lack of armor making him easily harmed line in one of your characters, at least over the next five, then I am going to find a way in the rules to prevent your character from being approved. Lack of armor doesn't always make a person weak, it's just an exploitable way of saying: "I need a filler weakness, so I'll say weak defense and hope that gets me through." Superhuman speed and strength render the need to defend unnecessary.

So, fix 'er up and I'll be back to approve. ^_^

[Halcyon Hero]

How's now?

[Zorolo]

Much better. I can save approved now, since there are some actual drawbacks to things now. ^_^ Also, his mantles sound almost like the Quincy Bangle from Bleach with the effect of swords that work like the Seele Schneider. All in all, good revisions. ^_^

Approved.