Sin

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• Sin

  • Nicknames: God's Hand, Black Death, The Forsaken Son.
  • Clan: Brotherhood of Light
  • Class: Paladin
  • Alignment: Lawful Neutral
  • Deity: Christ
  • Age: 24
  • Size: Tall
  • Body Type: Muscular
  • Height: 6'2''
  • Weight: 203 pounds
  • Complexion: Spanish
  • Hair: Black
  • Eyes: Sapphire
  • Handedness: Left
  • Relationship Status: Single
  • Personality: Calm, Brooding, Calculating
  • Mannerisms: Troubled man of God
  • Likes: Protecting innocents
  • Dislikes: Men of dark intentions.
  • Martial Status: Single
  • Pet: Black Raven known as Nova

• A view of Sin.

  In the year of our Lord....A enigmatic soul continues its advance upon the sacred grounds of the ancient assiduous tavern, descending upon its threshold with much unhaste. The world around this mysterious delineation sails by, his gait becoming more vigorious with each stride. Gabriel had experience his share of atrocities. Atrocities forged in the undying inferno of warfare, Memories hard convinced to relieve their established and tenacious grasp on his subconscious. Within a few moments, the framework of the domicile began to engross his field of vision. Gabriel admired the aging structure before him, appreciating its wounds administered by the savage yet potent hands of time. The tavern's exterior reminded Gabriel's own tormenting past which time relentlessly failed to waiver. The deeds of his past experience had haunted his dreams, thoughts, and nightmares eternally. His hand, cast within the confines of his premium leather glove, ascended upon the surface of the heavy wood entrance of the tavern. A brief sigh of anxiety eluded the imprisoning seal of his lips, as the timber constructed entrance ajarred. The ambient light within the inner sanctum of the tavern danced and flickered around the shadowy sihoutte, as he advanced into the heart of the tavern, revealing a sorrowful man of faith...
  
  Lengthy raven locks descended upon his facial visage, partially obscuring his melancholy facade. Embellished with the finest protection within God's armory, Gabriel was more than a formidable opponent. A crimson silk coat descended down the contour of his physique, concealing his light mythril chainmail underneath. Decorative slivers of gold and silver had been embedded upon his mail to grant the illusion of personal wealth but this theory was far removed from the truth. His right limb, rest within the secure cast of an enigmatic ebony gauntlet, seemingly forged of demonic origin. This undocumented relic emitted an aura of massive potency, a subtle warning to those searching for conflict. The harmonic melody of an assortment of tools and weapons attached to Gabriel's sash radiated softly through the hall of the taphouse. Vials of potions, daggers, and ancient relics failed to conceal the conspicous holy relic which shared the already consumed space upon his waistband. This cross, was not that of common worship. A destructive vindictive armament lay resting within the peaceful illusion of a ceremonial badge of worship. drunk with bloodlust, this arm of warfare awaited to spill life force of his belligerents anxiously...
  
  
  ..Yet Gabriel was a man of peace, religious right and honesty. These vicious tools of destruction rarely left their imprisoning sheaths, unless no other option was available to their wielder. Pausing briefly before continuing his delayed, yet deliberate pace toward a suitable throne for which to rest his battle hardened bones upon. Reaching down upon his belt, Gabriel unapologetically tore a vial of deep violet liquid from his sash and began to unsealing its contents into the embrace of fresh air. Garbiel carried his own chalice, which resembled more of a beaker as poisoning was a common end to the knights of his order. The unidentified liquid spilled into the cup, crashing against its base unremorsefully as he lifted it to his lips, removing the contents from its newly acquired den into the darkness of his throat. His sapphire eyes, lacking malevolence, pierced into the intimate tavern's interior, seemingly awaiting the arrival of an already detected intruder....

• Portrait

  ...In the end, There was Sin...