[hider=Helvete The Wise]
[center][b][h1][i][b]H[/b] E L V E T E[/i][/h1][/b][color=gray][b]“Me? One of the hated man-things? Perish the thought, perish the thought! I am one with the Wood, and the Forest is I!”[/b][/color]

[img]https://wrathofzombie.files.wordpress.com/2017/08/druid-1.jpg?w=607&h=840[/img][/center]

[COLOR=gray][INDENT][B][SUP][SUB][H3][i]Character Name[/i][/H3][/SUB][/SUP][/B][/INDENT][hr][/COLOR][INDENT][INDENT]Helvete Solon The Wise, of Brightwood[/INDENT][/INDENT]
[COLOR=gray][INDENT][B][SUP][SUB][H3][i]Age[/i][/H3][/SUB][/SUP][/B][/INDENT][hr][/COLOR][INDENT][INDENT]Fifty One[/INDENT][/INDENT]
[COLOR=gray][INDENT][B][SUP][SUB][H3][i]Gender[/i][/H3][/SUB][/SUP][/B][/INDENT][hr][/COLOR][INDENT][INDENT]Male [/INDENT][/INDENT]
[COLOR=gray][INDENT][B][SUP][SUB][H3][i]Archetype[/i][/H3][/SUB][/SUP][/B][/INDENT][hr][/COLOR][INDENT][INDENT]Druid Priest[/INDENT][/INDENT]
[COLOR=gray][INDENT][B][SUP][SUB][H3][i]Moral Conflict[/i][/H3][/SUB][/SUP][/B][/INDENT][hr][/COLOR][INDENT][INDENT] As caretaker of the Wood, one of the Druid's duties is to protect nature from those who would do it harm. Helvete, lost in his zeal to defend what mattered the most to him, committed heinous acts against his fellow man- the same people who, ironically, belong to the natural world he's meant to safeguard. In the twisted logic of his mind, men are but parasites. Entities of hate who cannot appreciate the world the gods built, only tearing it apart to fuel their endless wars and bloody conflicts. He sealed himself within the root walls and twisted bark of his homeland, slaying all who so much as entered it, in some horrific crusade to cleanse the natural world of what he saw as leeches and vagabonds.
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[COLOR=gray][INDENT][B][SUP][SUB][H3][i]Physical Description[/i][/H3][/SUB][/SUP][/B][/INDENT][hr][/COLOR][INDENT][INDENT]Before his soul passed on and his remains tossed in a ditch to rot, Helvete covered himself in parts of the Forest. A deer's skull was shaped into a rough mask to hide his hideous man-flesh, antlers protruding from his head. A coat of leaves, vines and thickets made him look larger and more menacing to those who trespassed in his home, serving the duel purpose of keeping him warm in the winter.

But all that has become one with the earth once more. All that remains of Helvete's old attire are the tattered clothes he had fashioned from animal hides and linens. Upon his chest is a tightly woven and heavily worn out shirt of Linothorax- armor of cloth, some metal and animal fat. Beneath it lie less protective robes, colored in a mix mash of dark greens and browns, so that he might blend in with his surroundings.

Physically, Helvete is...odd. Once upon a time, he was young and strong. Of strapping muscles and leather-like skin, the Druid survived in a harsh environment with few luxuries provided to him. However, age has weathered his physical might and prowess. His arms and legs have lost a great deal of their original strength, and the old man grows winder more easily than he would like. There's also an awful knot in his back that he just can't seem to knock out. Long, unruly hair of blond is deafened by time's ever shifting sands, gray and white overtaking first his beard and slowly creeping up toward his head.

Full red cheeks are complimented well by the lines and creases brought along by his age. Eyes of deep emerald,
once so bright and hopeful, darkened significantly in the days before his death. Most odd of his look, as strange as it is, are the Druid's ears. They are extended, scarred and pointy, lacking the roundness one might expect. A cruel ritual of magic, meant to stave off the beginning signs of deafness, as well as to further distance himself from his human roots.

How Helvete died is not a mystery to him, or any who look upon him. Scars that could come only from the piercing of a spear cover the area over his heart. Parts of his body are burned, too. Spots of scarred, burned flesh cover his arms, legs, torso and neck. Whatever happened to the priest was a violent affair that he didn't wish to dwell on. It was all on the past, after all! He had a world to save. No time to dwell, no time at all.[/INDENT][/INDENT]
[COLOR=gray][INDENT][B][SUP][SUB][H3][i]Personality Traits[/i][/H3][/SUB][/SUP][/B][/INDENT][hr][/COLOR][INDENT][INDENT]The man that rose up from the grave exists in a strange state of halfness. In part he is like he was when he passed from this world: strange in his speech patterns, prone to muttering to himself to hear the sound of someone's voice, and insistent that he is not, in fact, a man. Rather, Helvete believes himself a spirit of the Wood. A wisp of the Forest given form. It's the only explanation for how he hears the trees whisper to him, after all; even if he doesn't understand a lick of what those damned things are saying.

Yet in part, Helvete is also like his old self. Before he fell from grace, his heart consumed by hatred and contempt for the very flesh that hung to his own bones. He holds within his chest the same heart of bright joy and love, particularly for nature, but also for his fellow man. Prone to share nuggets of wisdom he'd learned from the Forest, and ever ready to help any in need. A song exists upon his lips, and he's quick to try and make friends. Though eloquence is lost on him, Helvete loves to speak. To others, to the trees and animals, and to himself- anyone who will listen to him prattle on about whatever topic it is that has captivated his fractured mind.

When presented with the darkest humanity has to offer, that bag of resurrected bones always feels an odd...pressure in his chest. He cannot explain it. Like a knife has been plunged into his heart and set alight. It brings forth feelings that he doesn't enjoy to feel. Cruel, twisted rage is near alien to the old druid, yet he feels it burning in his heart more often than he would like. Solon is afraid of it. Afraid of what it means, and what it might mean if his memories ever return to him.

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[COLOR=gray][INDENT][B][SUP][SUB][H3][i]Attributes[/i][/H3][/SUB][/SUP][/B][/INDENT][hr][/COLOR][INDENT][INDENT]

[i]"Nature is the great provider!"[/i] 

[indent]A man that has lived in the woods all his life knows more of berries, weeds and deer than he does practically anything else. While Helvete Solon remembers not the name of individual plants, he can tell you from instinct alone what is edible and what should never be put anywhere near the mouth. He knows a monster's den from that of easy prey, and animal tracks are as discernible as text to his old eyes.[/indent]

[i]"Suck on this frog."[/i] 

[indent]One of the primary needs men had of the druid when he still served them was that of a medicine man. While nothing like those stick up pricks in big cities who could heal wounds with a flourish of the hand and a little magic, Helvete had methods that were...sort of...just as effective! He knew how to cure a cold, treat a fever and the best way to suck poison from a wound. While no master at potion crafting, Helvete knows a few remedies to help quicken the natural healing process.[/indent]

[i]"Ugly goblin-creep, have at you!"[/i] 

[indent]Though older and more ragged than most of his part, Helvete is not entirely defenseless without his magic. His lessons have been forgotten, the Druid Priest knows his way around a quarterstaff through muscle memory alone. He can beat, bash and twirl with a stick better than your average woodsman. In a fight, Solon much prefers to stand behind men with a little more stamina and strength. However, if something manages to get past them and to him? The druid has it in him to fight back, even if he can't keep it up for very long.[/indent]

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[COLOR=gray][INDENT][B][SUP][SUB][H3][i]Inventory & Equipment[/i][/H3][/SUB][/SUP][/B][/INDENT][hr][/COLOR][INDENT][INDENT][i]"This is my stick. His name is Oakheart."[/i]

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A seven foot long staff made of Oak, crafted with an expertise that suggested it was an item of some importance. Even the sands of time have done little to unravel it, magic working to preserve it against all odds. There appears to be some fire damage, though the integrity of it's structure isn't compromised [i]too[/i] badly by it. At the head of the staff lies a glowing gemstone, it's surface cracked and it's light dimmed, existing as a likely source of power for the Druid. Without the staff in hand, he is unable to focus his magic, so it is assumed the crystal has something to do with it. 
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[i]"Who uses potion bottles to carry birdseed? Well, me, I guess."[/i]

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A leather satchel with several holes in it's aging surface was found about the Druid's shoulder when he 'awoke' from the endless sleep. Based on the size of the bag and it's contents, it appears that he'd lost most of what he was carrying in it. However, there did remain a pair of specially crafted bottles within, their surfaces scratched up and ugly, but unbroken. They contained birdseed when Helvete first found them, but he believes they'd be quite useful for holding medicine.
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[i]"So unfortunate. I wish I knew what it said.."[/i]

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An amulet lay about the neck of the old man, it's chain rusted and it's once beautiful surface made ugly by time. The silver necklace once held a runic inscription upon it, though the words had been scratched off, leaving it a mystery to the druid. A weak magical energy can be felt radiating off of it, though it's far too weak to be of any use. Perhaps once upon a time it was an artifact of some importance; now, though, it was little more than a hunk of metal.
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[COLOR=gray][INDENT][B][SUP][SUB][H3][i]Gift of Rebirth[/i][/H3][/SUB][/SUP][/B][/INDENT][hr][/COLOR][INDENT][INDENT][i]"A living statue. No moving, no seeing...what a terrible thing."[/i]

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The gods, cruel as they are, seek to keep their resurrected warriors safe. When and why it happens, the druid knows not. But at intervals, Helvete finds himself growing horribly cold. Frozen to the touch, even. But a moment later his flesh transforms into granite, shifting in a terrifying and painful fashion. His ability to move is stolen from him, as well his his senses, though he is still 'aware' of himself. The forest wizard is nigh impervious when he's a 'statue,' though the drawbacks make it...less than an enjoyable experience for the man.
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