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~Moment's repose
The thoughts, ideals and words of one alone in the sanctum of his mind. IC things.
Expose
Character: Embry Arxhielho

A Vedic half-asura with a copper imbued body and metal-alloy wings. His hair has developed sentience to compensate for his lack of functional arms.

What The World Knows: He is a strange creature of unknown origin, passed around from hand to hand amongst traders and seafarers and sought after as a collection, little more than an exotic beast to be caged and displayed. He came to be known as the property of Rallis Gallium, and a bounty was placed on his head for his capture and return to her later when he broke free of her tower and fled.

He is a dangerous monster with violent tendencies, using the broad copper wings of his arms to maim and slash and the dreadlocks upon his head to pierce any and all who cross his path. His hair is alive enough to move on its own accord, and will bleed if cut from his head. He is feral and wild and will fight beyond himself if his eyes have bloomed with blue, a veritable demon of passionate anger. Storms can be conducted into the metal of his wings, though it often recoils and harms him as well. This is something that should be taken advantage of.

A handful of careless hunters died at his wings during his pursuit, his own master, Galium, amongst them. He disappeared from the Nation only to resurface decades later in another continent, a caged creature serving as a strange and amusing attraction in a traveling circus. However, the troupe was attacked by a monster, and he disappeared in the chaos. Twenty years onward he returned to the Nation, only to take violent action against both Stibium Lukav and the Alchemy-scientist Halis Freuidermünd. He is responsible for killing the latter and became renowned as the monster who began the fall of the personified weapon. However, he disappeared soon after Freuidermünd’s death, never to be seen again. Lukav and the resistance took over from where he left off, though he had made it very clear that he had an immense hatred of them and was in no way a part of their cause.

What the Character Knows: Arxhielho has no recollection of his earliest years, his first memory being of waking in a crate surrounded by seafarers, who raised him as their cabin boy, despite their uneasiness of his copper wings and the odd, floating lightness of his blue-black hair. Upon trying to cut the cloudy locks, as the boy kept falling over them and warping the soft, malleable wings, it sprang to life, becoming animated in his pain and causing him distress. His caretakers bound them in dreadlocks and he found he had a sense of authority over them, spending his time talking to them and caressing them, taking comfort in their returned touch, as they were his only friends aboard. The sea air made him feel stronger and hardened his skin to the harsh elements that often assailed them.

At age ten, his wings grew thick and hard and he found he could fly when he accidentally fell overboard and saved himself from drowning by snapping both wings out and beating them harshly right before he hit the water. He took upon the role of defender, deflecting cannon fire with his newly strengthened wings until four years later, when he was struck down by grapeshot and cannons tore holes into his home, killing one of the crew. Already wounded, he took the ire and brutal beatings of the captain, spending days recuperating in his crate. Weeks later he was bound and taken to a group of slavers to be sold. This traumatized him to the point of blackout, waking only to find both family and strangers slain, his body covered in blood and a suppressed fury licking at the corners of his mind.

He understands there is a side to him that he cannot control, a wild, feral, passionate instinct within him that has a great love for bloodshed and ruin and he is afraid of this. This instinct causes him to think differently and act on his desires in a rather destructive manner. He maintains consciousness through these shifts in personality, often trying to subdue this instinctual nature out of fear, blocking that part of his mind from affecting his actions. He also understands that this other part to him understands how to command his wings and hair in ways that the more conscious part of his being cannot. It is also the part of him that understands how the storm flows through his body and how to better use it, though its reckless and destructive demeanor often results in him taking far more damage in battle. He describes these two sides as his heart and his mind, often lamenting over the separation between the two.

He does not kill, or at least will never admit to killing. Even with this distinctive other nature pressing at the back of his mind, he adamantly refuses to acknowledge the deaths of anyone and everyone that has fallen beneath his wings. Later, his fighting style develops into something reminiscent of a dance, the rhythm of his heart serving as the beat and tempo to control the speed and swing of his wings, euphoric and uplifting to none but himself. It can almost be described as losing himself in a trance, letting the melodies and beats of his mind control the movement of his blades and hair. After this development, he becomes even more adamant in his denial of the deaths caused by his hand, deeming them ‘those that could not keep up with the rhythm’ in order to ease his guilt. He values life at the heart of it all, wanting to believe that there is no such thing as wickedness in the world, and that every being has a good side to them, but realizes that sometimes his hand must be forced and more often than he would like.

Family is a word of the highest distrust to him. Of the two families he had and cherished and loved, both have betrayed him, abused him, and discarded his love for them. His trusting nature makes him a tad gullible and easily led, and because of has forced himself to believe that the ones one cares about the most are the ones who can cut you the deepest. As a result, he refuses to let anyone or anything close to him in his later years, though often he will betray himself on this matter, too full of hope and yearning for warmth and company. At the core of it all, he understands love is something worth fighting for and will put his entire being behind such a thing, but he simply cannot believe that it can find a resonance in family.

The Truth: Arxhielho is the 827th reincarnation of a steward of Kali, a danava full of wickedness and hatred that went by the name of Raghu, or Vol Raga. He was told a purpose would give his life meaning and as an unfortunate result, this led him to start a campaign to tear down the gods in order to fill the vast emptiness of his soul. His strength and passion meant that he almost succeeded, but he was captured and locked away. Fearing his willfulness and destructive tendencies, the gods destroyed him, sentencing his soul to a thousand reincarnations, hoping that with each his hatred and passion would become dulled, whittled away until there was nothing left.

Due to his recklessness and anger at his predicament, he tore through life after life, the deaths of his reincarnations rising rapidly, his memories deteriorating with each new being. He has all but forgotten what he was when his soul connected with Arxhielho’s body, clinging desperately to the idea of having a purpose and belonging to the point of obsession.

He was not born, but crafted. A product of an alchemical experiment, a homunculus imbued with the essence of copper, animated by the life-force of a minor demon. His wings and hair were mutations that occurred in the vessel of his body when a lump of pure copper was placed at the core of his being. His purpose was to serve as a weapon of alchemy, a personification of strength and power and magics for a war-hungry Nation as part of a circle of altered homunculi, molded after the primary metals. His body would take time to develop, harden, strengthen and would spend the first twenty years of its life solidifying and firming before it was ready to be trained and his mind molded into a weapon.

However, the demon used to animate his body was carrying another soul along with it, one on its way to its next incarnation. While its life was absorbed into the homunculus, the remaining soul was left behind and settled itself at the core of the vessel’s being, granting it more than a simple existence. Its presence brought life, emotion, feeling to an otherwise simple personification, and long before the body was ready, the soul within it resonated, crying out for life and experience. It created a desire so powerful that it pulsed out and struck a chord in all of the other personifications, bringing them to animation long before they were ready. The soul was that of the former danava, Raga.

Due to the fact that he was crafted as a personification of copper, he has retained its properties and as a result, enables him to conduct both heat and electricity with his body. However, he also obtained the weaknesses of the metal and tends to become lethargic in intense heat. Electricity causes his hair to crumble, the energy too much for the individual strands of hair to hold. His wings will also corrode if exposed to acids. Bending or breaking his wings will cause an imbalance within him, resulting in dizziness, nausea and slow deterioration of his form. Tarnish will appear on his wings if left in this condition, weakening him drastically unless they are mended or he dies from his. He is generally hard to damage, but the moment something breaks through his natural defenses, he rapidly goes into decline.

Raga’s soul is responsible for the shape that his mutations took on. Wings were originally blades in his original incarnation’s life, a black enchantment stained on his hands with the powdered compounds of a bewitched henna plant. His sentient hair a development in Raga’s final years to hold daeva off from killing him when the rest of his body could not obey due to chains and poisons. The asura’s great love of copper also influenced his appearance, drawing him closer to the original in physical appearance than any prior incarnation.

Despite his creation for the whims of men, Arxhielho’s life, consciously or unconsciously, revolves around finding his purpose. If he were to fail, his soul would be lost, Raga would be freed from his body and forced towards his next reincarnation. Death is just another grain of sand in the doom counter of his life, bringing him closer to the end of his sentence, where he will fall into total oblivion, worn down to nothing from existence upon existence. If he were to succeed, the blessings of the Daeva would return to him, restoring to him an asura’s strength and longevity as a means to defend and protect that which would become more dear to him than his own wicked self. However, his shattered memory would never return, nor would the knowledge of any of his previous incarnations, no matter what steps he might take in order to retrieve them.





 
 
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