Name: Abrecan Shaul
Gender: Male
Age: 23
Rank: Midnight
Lord/Necromancer
Family: Parents-Lord and Lady Midnight, deceased;
Grandmother-Mahrii
Height: 6'3
Build: Thin
Skin: Pale
white
Hair: Dark, inky black, straight and neat, to ears
Eyes: Deep
blue
Abilities: Like every other member of the Shaul family, Abrecan is a
very skilled necromancer. In fact, his entire castle is staffed by his undead
servants-in actuality, he and his grandmother are the only living beings in the
castle. His most frequent method of spell-casting is simply re-animating the
dead, using an incantation and a small animal sacrifice, but his abilities are
far more widespread than that. He is also adept in preserving the dead, causing
decay, illness, paralyzation, or poison in the living, and casting runes to
guard against the efforts of other necromancers, as well as haruspicy (entrail
reading).
Appearance: Abrecan is fairly tall at over six feet, but he is very
thin, almost unhealthily so. His skin is pale white, which makes him look iller
than he really is. He has short, very straight and neatly combed black hair and
the deep, midnight blue eyes which run in his family. He could be considered
very handsome, were it not for the deep scars that mar his face; he has a series
of scars just above and below his mouth and eyes, where his mouth and eyelids
were sewn shut. He dresses in very fine, expensive clothes, mostly black or dark
colors, and sometimes wears a dark veil or head covering over his face when
around other people.
Personality: Very calm and quiet, Abrecan is more often
shut off alone in his castle than seen among other people. He lives alone, save
his grandmother and his undead servants, and generally prefers the company of
the undead over that of the living. He is a skilled necromancer-a trait that
runs in his family-and this, as well as his heavily scarred face, causes most
people to fear him or even label him evil. He is far too used to this sort of
behavior for it to bother him anymore, so he spends most of his time locked up
in his rooms and rarely leaves the castle. He's intelligent and quite clever,
enjoying a good challenge.
Past: Abrecan, scion of the Shaul family, is a
prince of sorts, and rules a series of small islands, known as the Midnight
Isles, off the coast of the main continent. He is technically held accountable
to the King of Marlia-Neura, the nation on the main continent, but he is
essentially left on his own to do what he pleases and is ignored by the
government. His family has been in power for several generations, but they are
all dead now except for Abrecan and his grandmother. The Shaul family are
well-known for the use of Dark Magic and especially necromancy and are often
regarded with fear.
When he was a young child, he was stricken with a very
strong, often fatal disease. After several weeks of burning fever and delirium,
he fell into a deep coma. His family, thinking he was dead, began to prepare the
body for burial. These customs include sewing the eyes and mouth shut before
sealing the body in a stone grave surrounded by magic runes to guard against
necromancy. Abrecan woke up before they could bury him alive-but not until after
they had sewn his eyes and mouth shut.
He recovered physically, though the
scars would be permanent. However, the illness completely destroyed his ability
to work any kind of magic other than necromancy. His parents died not very long
after that, leaving him with only his aging grandmother, who was never quite the
same after his near burial. She has grown steadily more senile over the years;
she spends her days catatonic in bed and wanders the hallways aimlessly at
night.
Sponsors: Male White-Black
Kirin Dragon, Neppyo
Female
Grey-Purple Thestral, Aridath
Male Black-Brown
Dead Pet, Lup'os
Female Silver-Black
Styx Beast, Vedea Viitor
Female Black-Blue
Lethe Beast, Shada
Female
Purple/Black Fu-dog, Tam'dior
Apprentice: Gawyn
Dawey
Bond: None
There are certain things one should and should not do when one is
a well-known necromancer at a society ball hosted by one's king. And,
necromancer or no, dressing in many layers of black with cloaks and face veils
is something one should not do when one wishes to avoid drawing attention to
oneself. Aside from the stares, the heavy robes and many layers of clothing can
cause one to overheat.
The stares and whispers follow in his wake, but he
ignores them. He is far too used to the harsh rumors and lies people people
exchange behind his back, and he knows they would only get worse if he dared to
show his face.
The fine clothes hang heavily on his thin frame, and the other
guests give him a wide berth as he makes his way around the corner of the
ballroom. He'd like to stay hidden and unnoticed, but that is, of course,
impossible. After all, he is the Midnight Lord, the scion of the Shaul family,
and the infamous Necromancer. He grinds his heel into the floor sourly.
He
lifts his head as he notices someone approach, and behind the veil upon his
face, he blinks in surprise. Marlia-Neura's king approaches him, of all people.
He starts to clear his face of surprise-but then realizes that it doesn't matter
underneath his hood and clothes. The entire point was that no one would have to
look at his face. Instead, he schools his voice into a bored droll befitting his
reputation. "My liege?"
The king forces an obviously fake smile on his face
which he politely ignores. "Lord Shaul, what a surpise to see you." Not really,
he was invited, after all. But then, he rarely comes to public outings, unless
he is all but forced to, so perhaps it is a surprise.
He answers politely and
noncommittally. "Something compelled me to leave my castle and come here
tonight, sire." Boredom, for the most part, though he doesn't say such things
aloud. Liches are usually braindead and don't make good conversation
companions.
The king smiles inanely. "I understand you've had many visits
lately. From...old friends, perhaps?"
He stares blankly, unsure what the king
is talking about now. "Y-Yes." He says at last. May as well act as though he has
a clue what's going on. Bands of rebels, most of them workers of dark magic or
other such unsavory professions have come by his castle lately, begging for
shelter, aid, and occasionally, alliances. Could they be who the King is
referring to?
The King quickly begins to loose interest in him. He cannot say
he is not glad.
The old man's eyes move to a couple on the dance floor, and
he smiles again, this time wider and truer than any he had ever received. Bored,
he follows the old man's gaze. A young woman with red-gold hair dances with an
older man. He can easily see that the woman-more of a girl, really, probably not
yet even twenty-looks thoroughly disgusted with her talkactive partner. It is
obvious, to him at least, that she is not happy being there. The song ends, and
she breaks away.
He stands silently, unobserved for now, as she strides over
to the king, who greets her warmly.
"Alazne, dearest, you are enjoying
yourself, I hope?" The old king asks, taking her hands in his.
He can see the
princess's smile is strained, and he interjects sarcastically, "I'm sure the
lady is having a wonderful time." The sarcasm seems to have gone over the heads
of his companions-just as well, he muses.
The princess turns at the sound of
his voice, and for the first time, he gets a good look at her. The fact that she
is staring at him, for once, does not bother him in the slightest. Her tall and
slender body is covered in an extravagant green gown that does full justice to
her deep brown eyes and the tightly coiled curls of red-gold hair which hang
around her face and neck. For a moment, he is too captivated by her beauty to
notice anything else. Such as the fact that she is staring at him with a mixture
of fear and morbid curiosity.
The king's voice cuts through the loaded
silence and breaks the mood. "Ah-yes-Alazne. This is the Duke of the Midnight
Isles, Lord Shaul. Lord Midnight, my youngest daughter, Alazne."
The king is
clearly discomforted, but Lord Shaul ignores it, and instead chooses to move his
veil aside for a moment to take her hand and kiss it. "I am enchanted, Lady
Alazne." And he is, but he sees the discreet motion as she wipes her hand
against her gown, as though to rid herself of his touch, and his eyes narrow to
slits, though he gives no other outward sign.
He bids them good day curtly, striding away as the crowd
instictively moves apart around him. Of course, what else was he to expect? He
is the infamous Necromancer, and inspires fear in everyone who sees him. That
fact has never bothered him
before.
To be continued...