[hider=Aborath, the Bloody King]
[b]Name:[/b] Aborath
[b]Title:[/b] The Bloody King, The Legacy of Cain, Dread from the South, The Grave Knight

[b]Three-word description:[/b] Elder Vampire King
[b]Appearance:[/b] Aborath will rarely reveal his physical form. But he does have one. He stands a respectable 1.80m off the ground. His skin is pale like alabaster, but with long black hair adorning his head. Many, upon first meeting Aborath, often assume he is a horrible monster. While in reality, he looks quite stunning. With alluring red eyes. Aborath's common attire is a simple black robe trimmed with red. Though he still wears a simple, black-iron crown. Showing that he is still royalty.

[center][img]http://pre02.deviantart.net/7cf6/th/pre/i/2013/088/8/f/grave_knight_by_deivcalviz-d5zo3qs.jpg[/img]
[i]"Go, my brave son. But know that I will prepare your funeral the moment you pass my threshold. Know that your mother will start weeping, that I start grieving and your sibblings start missing. Go and face your quest. Only a grave awaits you here."[/i] - Last words of Turhael to his oldest son, Ysavor. Slain by the Grave Knight.[/center]
Aborath's form of a fighter is very much unlike him as he usually is. He wields two swords, fearing no wound or harm. His black armor does not hamper his movement, yet protects him fully. It is adorned with complex motives serving no more purpose other than to show that he can spent money on decorating an armor of battle. From his back, four leathered wings can spread. With talons at the joints and tips. Allowing Aborath to kill even faster than with just two swords.

[b]Magic/Skills/Abilities:[/b]
[i]Vampire Elder[/i] - The legacy of Cain. From him, all the vampire clans have spawned. Each of his "child" was gifted with a unique set of abilities. But that means that Aborath had those abilities in the first place. As vampire elder AND heir to Cain's power himself, he can use all the Vampiric arts. These powers range from shapeshifting into a dire wolf pack or fellbat cloud, mistwalking, flying (leather wings) and blood magic. Which is one of the foulest forms of magic. Corrupting the enemy's very flesh and blood. Poisoning them from within. Blood magic often leaves one tainted or crippled for the rest of their lives if not treated with immediate care.

[i]Soul magic[/i] - Nobody's soul is safe from Aborath. With an outstretched arm he can grasp forth towards your very being and rip it asunder. Of course, those stronger of will are harder to destroy than those who are simple of mind and idea. Death magic can also grip the heart of any creature capable of fearing. He can enhance his own allies with a terrible glow of dread, instilling terror on the nearby enemies. With Death Magic, you either die while you feel the very life force drawn from you or you flee shitting your breeches.

[i]Immortal bladestorm[/i] - There is little doubt. Aborath has lived for many centuries. Maybe even millennia! All the while he has had different, mortal, masters. Each teaching him their unique way of how to wield a blade. The result of years of training and whole decades or refining every technique is Aborath's unrivaled skill with the blade. Humans stand no chance and even the oldest of Elven swordmasters must concede defeat at the hands of the Elder Vampire.

[b]Inventory and holdings[/b]
[i]Grave Knight Armor[/i] - Armor crafted in the soul forge of a thousand screaming mortals. Their pain burns in the fires, their screams bellow the flames. Their eternal torment was forged in the black armor of the Grave Knight. Metal tempered in the blood of a thousand innocent victims. Aborath's armor is a manifestation of how far he's willing to go for power. Normal blades often shatter apart on it, dwarven expert forging simply bounces off. A hail of arrows feels like but drops of rain. Even magically enhanced elven swords cannot penetrate the armor. It is bloodbound to the Grave Knight. In this case, that is Aborath.

[i]Ysavor & Saren[/i] - The Dread King acknowledges those with great skill in both magic and the sword. When he has beaten them, he drains their bodies of their souls. With their souls infused in the metal, he orders his elven and dwarven slaves to forge a new weapon. Ysavor was an elven prince daring to stand before Aborath. He put up a good fight. In fact, Aborath hadn't felt such a thrill for decades! When the battle was finally over he forged Ysavor's soul into a blade. Ysavor now hungers for souls. He prefers elven souls, though human souls may sate his appetite for a moment too. The more souls the blade consumes in a battle, the bright its runes burn and the more dangerous a wound from it comes. To the point that but if the blade so much as scratches you, the enchantment will tear open the wound into a bloody mess.

Saren was an exceptionally brave, human mage. He had a talent for light and fire magic. He too dared challenge the Grave Knight. But in a magical duel. The balls of fire thrown by Saren destroyed great parts of the palace complex. His light pierced the dark clouds over the Southern Realm and burned many vampires to their dead. Still, he was beaten down after a whole day of fighting. Now fused in his second blade, Saren's soul hungers for magical power. It seeks for mages and the forces they wield. Drawing it from the very air around him. Those who have cast spells before and get hit by Saren the very mystical energies you harness will start burning you dow. The souls of these mages, upon death by Saren, are converted in pure magical power to be utilized by Aborath. Sealed within the magebane blade.

[i]Heidan[/i] - A once mighty dragon descended upon Aborath during his travels. After a week long of fighting, the dragon finally fell to one of the many blades of the Grave Knight. For the first and only time, Aborath was exhausted. And had no time to draw the soul from the dragon's husk. When he had regained enough power, the dragon's soul was gone. But it left a nest in its wake. Aborath took an egg and corrupted it with his Soul Magic. The dragon that spawned was black as the night. It couldn't breathe flames and still can't. Yet some say that, if you stand too close to it, the dragon's rage begins to pull at your very soul. Making you sluggish and tired and consuming it should your perish. Heidan is now the mount of Aborath. Who often rides his Black Dragon into battle.

[i]Vierna[/i] - The city of Vierna is the capital of the vampire kingdom (or, alternatively named, the Southern Realm). Vierna is a complex and big city. Entirely self-sufficient. It was once an elven city at the edge of their great forest. But has long since been corrupted by Aborath. Vierna is the home of the Dark Court. Vierna, the city of Death is a large city with snake-like streets, large towers and gigantic estates. It is the only city protected by forces drawn from every Coven, under the command of the Dread King himself. The Dark Court is simply a council of the many different covens of Aborath. Whom all swear fealty to him. Each coven has a speciality tied to their bloodline. Within Vierna's Courtroom there are 11 different thrones. One is the black throne of Aborath. Though this one is even less used than the throne room one. Then there are 2 empty ones. Yet still stained with blood. Two ancient covens once tried to rebel against Aborath. They were swiftly put to the sword.

[i]Sons of Aborath[/i] - Children specifically chosen by Aborath. While they aren't Coven grandmasters, the Sons of Aborath are among the strongest vampires in existence. Each possessing one gift or another. The sons of Aborath are an elite fighting force capable of cutting down even the most trained human fighters and weathered elven rangers. Often centuries old, sons of Aborath are chosen from among the living that show exceptional talent, loyalty and hunger for power. The sons of Aborath often ride to battle on bloodied steeds with black and red armor. Their blades can sometimes be heard screaming for blood.

[b]Myth[/b] They say that long ago there was a great darkness. Cain, a young, foolish warrior, desired immortality so he could feel the heat of battle forever. The god of Death had witnessed his pleas so often while he took away the souls from the battlefield, that upon a very faithful day he gave Cain his wish. But at the same time he cooled his sense for battle. Suddenly it did not matter if he was fighting an honorable battle or slaughtering an entire village of women and children. The only thing that gave him any sense was the cold touch of death. So he caused as much of it as possible. Aborath was a great and noble warrior of the Order of the Sun. He rode out alone to stand against Cain. Some say that Cain defeated him, but with a bite and thus created his first and only child. Others say that Aborath and Cain struck a deal. A few would even claim that Aborath IS in fact Cain. No-one knows.

Cain had vanished. In his place now stood Aborath. Who was not as consumed with death as his master, but still felt the need to cause it greatly. He learned that the cry for murdered hid the hunger for souls. So he began to develop a form of magic that drew out the hunger for souls and manifested it in spells. Some say that during his research into Soul Magic he met the god of the death. Others say that the death god simply granted him a boon for his long travels through the known and unknown world. Whatever it was, Aborath came back from his research with both Void Magic and Soul Magic. He entered a southern kingdom of elven and began to corrupt them. Battle after battle, night after night the covens of Aborath took over more ground from the elven kingdom. Every day more joined the immortal's ranks. Either out of fear or hunger for power. Disloyalty was punished harsh and painful, while loyalty within the army was greatly rewarded. The elven, realizing that they were fighting a losing battle, began an attempt to cast a barrier to contain such evil. They already assumed that their kingdom would inevitably fail. So they were going to bind the vampires to the land. Should they dare corss the borders the barrier would kill them. Accounts are rather difficult to retrace from  here. Some say that they used a drop of Aborath's blood. Others say they used one of his children. Directly linked to him. Whatever it was, it was a mistake. When Aborath sensed the spell being cast, he sped up his efforts. His army marched towards the elven capital of Vierna. The siege itself was, by all accounts, one of the bloodiest battles in the south. When the mages neared the end of their incantations Aborath managed to breach their room. Half the elven mages were killed on sight. Their blood devoured by the sons of Aborath. The other half tried to fight back, but to no avail. They were captured, and Aborath finished what they started. But instead of making the vampiric blood the mark of those who could not leave, he made it the key of the barrier. Only those with vampire blood within them could ever leave the Southern Kingdom. Thuse he chained the surviving population to his will.

Since his victory over the elven kingdom, Aborath had remained there. Watching over his kingdom from anywhere but his throne room. But should a worthy warrior or mage dare enter his throne room and challenge the empty throne, he will appear on it in a moment's notice. Holding Saren & Ysavor.

[b]Personality:[/b] Aborath hates everything except for his own children. The vampires. Killing one, and you will suffer the wrath of the Grave Knight. He sees humans and elves as life-stock. Cattle that should be kept in pens and fed every now and then so they can continue to feed the vampires. It is their only reason to live, so he sees elven and human kingdoms as stupid little squablers who sitll resist their fate.

But then what is the fate of the vampire? To fight and cause as much death as possible. Maybe a genocide. But there must always be death. You cannot go and kill the entire city because then nobody would die after you pretty much killed everyone. So why not chain them? Hold them and every year you sacrifice a hundred of their children. The souls and blood over the years heap up and up. Over a hundred years you've caused more death than any genocide could achieve. This is what he believes in. Those who succeed to both conquer with great slaughter but govern with a steady flow of souls and corpses earn the favor Aborath. Those who resist their fate and destiny in any way are sure to have angered him. He has no use for material wealth, as for a thousands-years-old vampire he has had it all, lost it all and had it again.

[hider=Ysavor's duel]
"I come for you! I have come, King of blood! Show yourself!" the cocky elven prince yelled as he threw open the great, oaken doors of the empty throne room. At the other side stood Aborath's throne. A vile chair adorned with screaming visages and skulls. "Show yourself, demon!" the enraged prince yelled. It drew the members of the Dark Court from their slumber, as they began to walk the corridors. Like blood traveling in veins around a beating heart so did the Dark Court travel towards the heart of all corridors: the balcony within the throne room. Another fool had called out their master. It had been so long since one worthy tried to summon him. But this elven prince held promise. With red, peering eyes they gazed down at the unafraid prince.

With an explosion of smoke, Aborath appeared on his throne. Holding Saren in his right hand. "What... do you want." he asked. He wasn't wearing his Grave Knight armor yet. Those of the Court knew he would summon the second he deemed the elven prince worthy. "I have come to challenge evil itself!" the noble elven prince raised his sword, pointing at Aborath. "You, vile thing! I heard stories that will fight anyone who dares challenge you. I challenge you!" Aborath rose from his throne. With every step the black armor began to form around him. Out of thin air apparently. He went from a simple king, dressed in robes to a might dreadknight ready for battle. "You... are worthy."

The battle was long yet not a moment passed when the Court was not amused. Servants were passed along, getting bitten to drain them from their blood. While below a champion of good clashed with the powers of evil. The elf had come prepared. With an enchanted sword, several spells and potions. His wounds healed instantly with every touch from Saren. Despite the Grave Knight's enchantment upon his blade, he could not burn away the magical power of the elf. But eventually, after long hours, Saren found Ysavor's heart. With a gasp the elven prince let out his final breath and perished. The bloody red blade's promise to devour Ysavor's soul was stopped by Aborath. Who, instead, pulled a crystal phylactery and let it drain the soul of Ysavor. Thuse his second blade was to be formed.
[/hider]
[hider=Meeting evil]
Days passed in the undead their kingdom. It has been a few years now, since last Ysavor entered the dread palace of Vierna. The throne room hasn’t echoed with blades clashing for a while now, and the Dark Court had entered a slumber. Days, weeks, months. For immortals, time could go so slow sometimes. With no haste or time running out, daily things became either a ritual, but far more often a boring obligation. Until the heave, black-oaken doors cracked open again. The sudden surge of power woke up even those deepest in their torpor. A figure in black robes, hooded and holding a gnarled staff in his right hand marched within the throne room. Once more like blood the Dark Court poured into the balcony. Such power, they were intrigued, they hungered for it. But at the same time, it instilled their hearts with a once distant sensation: fear. What could harness such power!? Even worse, would it be capable of striking down their lord?

“I summon the King of Blood.” The hooded figured said. Before the black, empty throne. Once more did Aborath appeared. Dressed in his royal robes and circlet-crown. But without his blades at his side. “A power marches into my hall. State your business, wraith.” The words were cautious, but not disrespectful. “I am but a messenger, Grave Knight.” The creature said, with a hoarse throat. He pulled a scroll from his robes and held it out. From the high up canopy of the hall a fellbat swooped down and grabbed the scroll. Flying straight at its master with it and handing it over before it flew up again. Back to its stupor. Silently Aborath read the message. It was written in a language Aborath barely even remembered. The letters were written in a tongue even ancient back in his human days. But he could read it, and the use of that language added to the legitimacy of the scroll’s acclaimed writer. When he was done, he walked up to a nearby hearth and threw the scroll in it. Making sure it burned all the way down to ashes. He then turned to the strange messenger. “Tell your master I will attend his meeting.”
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