[i][b][u]Alonfé the Archsage, Legend of Magic[/b][/u] [quote]"My honour is bound by no morales but my own. Do you still wish to fight, soulless warrior? Very well then. I can sense your spirit, your hearts' crazed rhythm. I should've known you wouldn't back down." ~Alonfé to 9S, unauthorized landing at uncharted D77[/i][/quote] [u]Name:[/u][spoiler][i] A name? I go by Alonfé. You may know me by other names: Ragnell, Devil's Priest, or more simply Sajjan. My real name? Whatever you make it to be. [/spoiler][/i] [u]Age:[/u][spoiler]Rumoured 16, looks 24[/spoiler] [u]Species:[/u][spoiler]Dragon-blooded Human[/spoiler] [u]Appearance:[/u][spoiler]The man stands at about 6'2". He's grown a little since they last saw him. His jet black hair is very short, spiked slightly at the front like a barricade. Caramel skin accentuates his golden brown eyes that shine in the sunlight. A sharp face; large nose, higher cheekbones, and a definite jawline. Most who knew would say he was of Indian descent. His body isn't bulky, classified as a medium build, but holds unimaginable power. Toned arm and legs, a slightly broader chest and shoulders than normal of his shape. Black combat pants below a beige over shirt, all hiding steel plate armour. Over it all is something most would recognize: a forest green cloak that draped down to just below his knees, trimmed in gold, tattered with war. The edges are frayed and burnt, a few bullet holes through the corners, but nothing that took away from the breathtaking design encompassed within the borders. Links of interlocking circles give way to a crest that appeared different every time it was seen. The cloak symbolised Altruism; just one look at it's design would spur someone to do great things. To those of ill-intent, it meant judgement. His left arm was bionic, all the way up to a little past his shoulder. The metal reached into his chest, spidering out and anchored to his bones. The design was sleek and moved just like a real one, but took on a gunmetal grey hue. Emblazoned on the shoulder was a crimson serpent coiled around a blade, fangs bared. Then there were his eyes. Brown, like any other. In the right light they reflected like pure gold, but in the dark took on a void of nothing. They were full of pain, full of loss; of honour yet disgrace. One look into his eyes revealed a burning fire of hope that rarely faltered. His eyes became him, as they revealed his heart and his soul, the essence of his power. [/spoiler] [u]Personality:[/u][spoiler]Alon is the happiest go luckiest mother-blam!-er you'll ever meet. Hands down. He may look like a man but he has the heart of a child, making him easily hurt but quick to forgive. A man who'd gladly give his life for another. It's a bad habit, you see. And a boy who never seemed to understand the meaning of family. He has troubles comprehending affection and it's true meaning as he'd never had a family; his whole life was lived amongst crazy powerful psycho killing machines. Some died, other's left; but rarely did they come back. He has severe anxiety at times due to PTSD, and his triggers aren't set but there's times where it'll get tough. Out of combat, this tends to mess with the weather. In combat it weakens his magic, based on spirit, but opens him up to the fell arts which utilize his sinister side. Always grinning, smiling and laughing, he takes the hard times with a side of bad puns or jokes and keeps on goin' with it. There'll be times where he needs to be a man: leaving him to fight by himself is advised. But other times he's dependent on people and being social, and is keen on helping others with their problems or help them train. Always up to a challenge, and never, ever, gives up. Determined to a fault. Selfless to the point of insanity, and stubborn as all hell. But a good guy. [/spoiler] [u]Backstory:[/u][spoiler][i]It all started in a bar. As do all good stories, fake or real. But as I stand before you today I can assure you this one is no mere fairy tale. I worked as a bartender at the Floodzone until I found myself again. Stasis due to over exertion had cost me my life's worth of memories so this is where I began. At a bar. From there I learned of lands beyond. The Dojo. Where I faces Luis, now known eternally as "Cobalt Phoenix". He was the first warrior I had met and sparred, and damn was he strong. I lost the fight but I gained entry anyways; I was still hiding my magical potential at this point. I looked up to the figures who governed though; I watched people come and go. But more importantly, I had a home. Off to new lands. The Arcanum with it's daunting halls. The Exalin crew whom I spent but a mere moment with: not long enough to become a member, but long enough to learn their hearts. Python, Murph, Minerva. Many names to add to the count. I had friends. So many friends. They fought with me, learned with me, errored with me. As they came they doubted me but soon they came to trust me, trust in my power. As they left, they left a piece of them with me. New Terra was where I found myself and faced my biggest demons. It was the battles there where I learned the cost of war. I lost my left arm fighting Necrons. I cast a spell too powerful for me and, as payment, it took the arm from me. I ended up pushing back the impending horde and wiping out more than I ever could've imagined but not like this. Venom Inc. Kinda shady, but shady in the way I was used to. Wilson, Venom, Crow to name a few. They supplied the material's to my new arm, custom made I can say proudly. We all bore their symbol at one time or another: you could say war eventually became essential to us. Our hearts lived and breathed the fight. Luis died. The world spun two speeds too quick that day. Of all the people he was the constant, the Undying. But even the strongest of us fell. A wake up call no less, but I moved on. I made a family. Tauros, Gemini, Scorpio... the dragon queen's children whom were entrusted to me, Ninian and Nils... in the end, everyone left. Died. Never came back. In the end my story may be full of daring tales. Of nights spent alone with numerous tomes, studying copious amounts of magic. Of weeks out in the wilderness training until I was able to handle any situation thrown at me. Of journeys in far off lands, learning their culture and fighting their strongest warriors. Of hordes and hordes of the unholy, the heretic, or just a single figure to stand honourably against what I had become. My story contains no shortage of death, no happiness without pain, no gain without loss. So much loss. But unlike the others, mine goes on. Since as long as I draw breath I will fight in the name of the people who fell before me, Legend's in my eyes. I may not have been the strongest or the bravest, or the smartest or the most talented, but I have heart: something that a lot of them lost. So am I one of them? You tell me. But if you say I am nothing but a hoax I ask you this. Take one look into my eyes. Take a look at the monster I've become. Face my hellish flame and survive my suffocating torrent, brave the blizzards of those broken hearts and the maelstrom of my thoughts. Fight the light which I seek and the darkness which I hold at bay. Take a look at my losses and consider my tolls. And remember I will always face your challenge with heart. For love may be foreign to me, but respect? Show me your spirit and you have it. [/spoiler][/i] [u]Physical Ability:[/u][spoiler]The dragon blood within him gives him numerous advantages. The blood is simply extremely dense, and his body is better and faster at absorbing and exchanging vital things needed to operate. His muscles have the same advantage which allows him to output many times more force and endure much more punishment than any armour could. He can go a couple weeks without water, months without food; this is due to the "storage" nature of his systems. When the world's energy is not available to him, he uses his own to supplement spells. His skin hardens with impact, the cells acting like scales and interlocking with impact to be cut resistant and greatly reduce impact vibrations and the following damage. Enhanced hearing, even moreso with magical aid and excellent perceptive skills. His nervous system is wired to react extremely fast, and along with explosive power already within him at the ready, he is capable of superhuman speeds and strength, making him more durable than even mechanical soldiers. [/spoiler] (continued below)