Zethaniel

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• Vital Stats

  • Name: Zethaniel
  • Gender: Male
  • Played by: Raymond
  • Race: Mixed-Breed Feline
  • Class: Mystic Swordsman
  • Alignment: Neutral
  • Deity: None
  • Age: 28
  • Size: Medium
  • Body Type: Athletic
  • Height: 5'10
  • Weight: 180-185 lbs
  • Complexion: Cream-colored fur, black striped markings.
  • Hair: Gray, loose ponytail.
  • Eyes: Blue.
  • Handedness: Ambidextrous.
  • Scars: Multiple long scars, likely from a whip, across his back.
  • Relationship Status: Widower
  • Personality: Stoic and collected.
  • Mannerisms: Internally arrogant, obsessive compulsive about his sword.
  • Likes: Combat, food, feeling useful.
  • Dislikes: Happy/affectionate couples, nobility.

• Description

  
  
  Zethaniel stands at a modest 5'10, his body built to the core with sleek, sinewy muscle. Skin covered by cream colored fur, and dark stripes and markings lining his appendages, up to his wrists/ankles, which flowed into a solid black. His gray hair reached nearly to his mid-back, pulled into a loose, haphazard ponytail by means of a tattered black ribbon. His back, though not visible, was covered in scars from whip lashes. If one were intuned to magic and the like, they'd pick up on a magickal aura around him, specifically alligned with natural lightning.

• Biography

  Zethaniel was born to Zephanayel and Alleya Virgoff, in a small cabin in the middle of a remote woodland. Early in life he showed an affinity for the sword, picking up sticks and playing with them as if they were iron and steel weaponry, much to his father's dismay. His father, Zephanayel, was a former knight, denoted by his innate arcane abilities that channeled into the weaponry he was using. However, this was not the life he wished for young Zethaniel, who was bright and always cheerful; the complete opposite of himself, and he wanted to see him survive and make something of himself without bloodying his hands in battle. Zethaniel wouldn't have it that way. After years of insistance and harassment, his father finally gave in, and began to formally train the young kit - then a mere nine years old - in the art of the sword. Zephanayel didn't expect young Zethaniel to show an affinity for the very same arcane abilities he himself held, but it filled him with pride, overcoming his natural wishes to shield his son and bringing him further out to train him even more. At sixteen, Zethaniel was an able fighter, and adept in controlling and conjuring lightning from his body. He was happy. He had everything.
  
  Years passed, and while on an errand in the closest village - a small merchant community named Katharwell - Zethaniel was purchasing some updated tools as a gift to his father. Years earlier they had taken up cutting wood and selling it to make a living, and a new axe was just what they each needed. It was there he met Illysia. It didn't take the two long to bond and develop a healthy, full relationship. Within a year, Illysia - a mere twenty years old herself - was pregnant. Upon hearing the news, Zephanayel and Alleya insisted on Illysia living with the family, to which she readily agreed. All went well; they prospered, expanding on to hunting and mining, readying their world for the gift of life that was to come.
  
  Once again, Zethaniel was on his monthly trip into town for supplies. Regardless of their self-sufficiency, luxuries were a thing they greatly enjoyed. He purchased things such as expensive dried meats, candies, and a small locket he intended for Illysia. Later that night, he rode back to his family's cabin, only to see it raized to the ground. Among the rubble and debris, were the bodies of his family, including his pregnant wife, Illysia.
  
  He vowed revenge. And he got it. News travelled quickly, and it didn't take long before he followed a lead to the culprits of the attack; a band of raiders, a small tribal group looking to expand their land and influence, were rumored to be behind the attack. This was all he needed. Zethaniel took his father's sword, a blade held in the family for generations, and forged with a quality unmatched by most, and began tracking them.
  
  He found them. Only it wasn't a small band of raiders. It was an entire community; warrior men, women, children. Despite this revelation, the rage built inside of him - how dare they take his family, when they fully understood what it was like to have one? It didn't make sense, and he refused to ponder the consequences of his actions.
  
  And thus, the massacre began. The raiders, while skilled, were no match for the empassioned prowess of the younger feline. Charging headlong into a battle that could have been avoided, he began to cut them down, one by one. Multiple were slain with the blade, some electrocuted by Zethaniel's innate abilities. He didn't stop with the men.
  
  Before the sun rose that night, everyone in the village was slain. At the end of it all, he collapsed, brain racked under the weight of what he had done. How could he forgive himself? If that evil really existed in his heart, then how could he have deserved what he had? He was convinced that it was a pre-emptive punishment for his true nature, that he himself was not aware of until now. He began to wander, far from where he had grown, dedicating himself to the protection of others.
  
  He would redeem himself.