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Personality
Laz initially comes off as somewhat soft-spoken and reserved to many upon first meeting, as he seems to rarely initiate conversation or try to get to know other people. However, if one takes the initiative to speak with him, they'll find that he actually can be quite an amicable fellow. He does have a bit of a mischievous streak, loving to sneak a prank here and there when people least expect it, knowing that his first impression often leaves him as one of the last people suspected of the deed.
He's not always that nice to be around, however. Ever since he was young, Lazulin has had trouble keeping his temper under-control, and even now, he can be seen either barely holding back these outbursts behind strained smiles and clenched teeth or sending an unsuspected fist right into someone's face as he prepares to let loose on them. This anger problem is much more easily scene when Laz is seen fighting anyone, as it could be said that he can get a bit. . . overly-enthused about inflicting harm on others. And if that foe is a member of the Librarium, the likelihood of him going overboard is greatly increased, as Laz bares a very intense hatred for the Librarium in it's entirety. As far as he's concerned, they're a corrupt and immoral government that needs to be completely annihilated down to the very last man.
“No, I don't want to talk about the bandages.”
| Nａｍｅ: |
| Alias|Nickames|Titles: |
| G e n d er: |
| R a n k: |
| Ａｇｅ: |
| Guild : |
| History: |
| Magic: |
| Miscs : |
Sheet credited to Buddha.Mulciber Lazulin.
| Alias|Nickames|Titles: |
The Wildlander,
| G e n d er: |
Male
| R a n k: |
B.
| Ａｇｅ: |
16
| Guild : |
Cloud Chaser
| History: |
Lazulin was not born in the Highlands, like most of the other Cloud chasers. Instead, he is an inhabitant of what he considers to be the True Pandora, known to others as the Wildlands. In the Wilds of Pandora, life is tough and unfair, with any number of deadly creatures that would be more than happy to make a meal out of you. However, Lazulin was lucky to join a village that was by protected one of the great dragon that the Highlanders had tried to slaughter all those years ago. Her name was Pivae, a gentle but forlorn dragon of ice who the village had helped protect from the Highlanders fro generations in return for her protection. She had once had a mate,Neivrinti, but he had perished shortly before Lazulin, slain by a terrible creature of darkness and shadow. According to Nirvelli, Neivrinti's former rider and Laz's mother, the dragon had sacrificed himself in order to ensure his rider's escape from the foul beast.
Neither his mother nor Pivae have ever been the same since the incident, at least, that's what Laz's father often said. That she blamed herself for what happened more than she should, and had become a lot more violent and impulsive ever since. Laz would be lying if there weren't times when he was afraid of her at times. But she never hurt him or his father, despite seeming close to it several times. She just simple froze before going off somewhere to cry the rest of the night away. Still, even with these issues, Laz loved his mother and father, wanting to grow up to be might warrior just like them when he got older. Perhaps even a dragon rider, like his mother had been. Pivae had a clutch of young wyrmlings that would reach young adulthood in the near future, so there was a chance he could prove himself worthy of the honor.
Unfortunately, such a future was not in the cards.
Somehow, the Librarium had gotten wind of the existence of dragons in the area and had sent a group of Wizards to deal with the issue. Normal procedure with the Librarium with such incidents was that they would demand the dragon's be slain, and if resisted, they would kill the dragon's themselves and likely take down anyone that got in their way, but that was all. But whoever was in charge of this patrol did not think such things were warranted. Either due to some sick sadism or warped sense of justice, the man had deemed that the whole of Laz's tribe would not make it through this night alive. There was no warning before the attack, save a slight increase in magical energy. Most couldn't even sense such faint trepidations in their surroundings. But Nirvelli did, bursting into Laz's room and rushing him and his father to the underground storage area they kept, so as to stop pests from stealing their food. They had almost made it when the bombardment began.The last thing Laz saw was the look in his mother's eyes, something between fear, panic, and something much more primal and terrifying, before he was thrown into the damp metal box. Then everything went white as beams of radiant light fell from the night sky, decimating everything they touched. The box collapsed around him, nearly crushing him as he tried to escape, to no avail. He likely would've died if it weren't for the heavy defense enchantments that allowed the storage container to take as much damage as it did without breaking.
But it seemed that he had traded one hell for another, as he was now trapped in the darkness of the now cramped compartment. He wasn't sure how long he had been trapped in his prison, only that the shaking of the bombardment had stopped shortly after had been trapped. The time crawled on terrible slowly as he tried to make his way out of his prison, calling through the tiny cracks in the metal for someone, anyone, to come save him. And then, when it seemed like no one would save the poor twelve year old, he sat down in a corner and cried himself into a fitful sleep, having exhausted himself in his attempts.
It would be another 3 maddening days that Laz would spend trapped in his confinement, three days munching on the remains of their family's food stores, of calling out for help until his throat was raw and sore, of listening with dread as the beast of pandora pawed through the wreckage soon after, growling and fighting amongst themselves for the burnign scraps and remains of the village that had once been his home. Three days of where he felt an ever going certainty that he was going to die in here. Either from dehydration, starvation, or just from the stress of it all, he was going to die and this crumpled metal box would be his tomB. It was in this dark moment, however, that he heard-no, felt a voice. It was soft, distant, but it called to him. It promised him survival, purpose, a way out, and most of all, it promise power. Power to take down those who had ruined everything, taken everything from him, and had confined him to this dark hell hole to die.
He had no other options, and even of he did, he likely wouldn't have taken them. With this offer, he felt all of his despair and hopelessness turn into anger and rage. And so, he accepted, and the world went darker than darkness. The roof of his prison was turned into not but a fine layer of dust, obliterated by whatever magic this voice possessed.
'But that is onlya hint' The voice would whisper into his mind, 'of the power I can give you. But trials still await you in the travel to my domain. If you wish to turn back now, I won't stop you.' The voice needn't have bothered voicing the option. He had made his choice already.
What followed was a month long journey through the Pandoran wilderness that felt like ages. Laz would have perished several times over if it weren't for the voices words and abilities, teaching him how to track, how to hunt, and most importantly, it taught him how to hide from the most savage creatures that stalked the treacherous jungle at night. And while he was mostly safe during these nights, the sounds pf jungle meant he rarely found himself sleeping restfully. Anymoment, some creature could stalk through the trees to snatch him away to their lair and end him. This paranoia ate away at him so much that he almost never slept more than an hour at a time, and when he did, it was usually from exhaustion.
But when the month had ended, Laz would find himself at an ancient temple, broken and decayed, with strange carvings of bestial lizard-like beings that stood on two legs. He could not read the language as he walked past the carvings, but he could feel the sense of peril and danger they impressed upon him. They wanted him to go no further, were warning him of danger possibly greater than anything the young lad had faced before. but he had nothing else to strive for. He had already gone far from where most tribes tended to travel, and without the voice, he would not survive the journey back. so, pushing the feelings of apprehension and dread that the carvings tried to instill in him to the back of his mind, he marched forward into the depths of the temple. Despite it's age, the structure remained brightly illuminated by green leyline carved into the stone, seeming to draw magical energy from the land around it to power its systems.
Down and down and down he went, the voice growing ever stronger as he proceeded, telling him of every loose stone and trapped passage that stood between him and it. And before long, he arrived at his destination. Entombed within a massive crystalline structure, as cracked and decrepit as the rest of the temple, was a pristine black scythe of some otherworldy make. And it was from this weapon the the voice spoke to him, with only one question.
"Do you accept the power of I, Jamaerah the Watcher of Fate, Weaver of Magic, and Purifier of Pandora, boy?
Lazulin did not respond with a word, but with his actions. He walked up to the crystaline structure and, with slight hesitation, placed his hand upon it. With a soft peel like the ringing of a bell, the crystalline prison shattered, the scythe floating in the air above him ominously as the voice barreled out it's response to his acceptance.
"Than let us now be one, Lazulin Mulciber, and may those who stand before our might, like all else in existance, be returned to the pure dust from whence they came!" And with that bellowing closer, the scythe descended on Lazulin in the blink of an eye, the blade stabbing itself into his eye. But there no sound of steel cutting flesh, no blood, only a scream of pain as LAz's mind began to fill with images, like an entire sea of information was flooding into his mind, filling his consciousness to the bursting. And just when it seemed like he would succumb, the sythe suddenly became enveloped in a soothing light, black switching to white as it split into an array of bandages that wrapped around his head. Laz would stand somewhat paralyzed by the event, his mind struggling to recover before finally giving into the exhaustion that filled his body. And so, with a loan whimper and the thud of a body hitting the floor, Jamaerah and Lazulin were bonded together, the journey they would soon go one beginning in earnest.
Neither his mother nor Pivae have ever been the same since the incident, at least, that's what Laz's father often said. That she blamed herself for what happened more than she should, and had become a lot more violent and impulsive ever since. Laz would be lying if there weren't times when he was afraid of her at times. But she never hurt him or his father, despite seeming close to it several times. She just simple froze before going off somewhere to cry the rest of the night away. Still, even with these issues, Laz loved his mother and father, wanting to grow up to be might warrior just like them when he got older. Perhaps even a dragon rider, like his mother had been. Pivae had a clutch of young wyrmlings that would reach young adulthood in the near future, so there was a chance he could prove himself worthy of the honor.
Unfortunately, such a future was not in the cards.
Somehow, the Librarium had gotten wind of the existence of dragons in the area and had sent a group of Wizards to deal with the issue. Normal procedure with the Librarium with such incidents was that they would demand the dragon's be slain, and if resisted, they would kill the dragon's themselves and likely take down anyone that got in their way, but that was all. But whoever was in charge of this patrol did not think such things were warranted. Either due to some sick sadism or warped sense of justice, the man had deemed that the whole of Laz's tribe would not make it through this night alive. There was no warning before the attack, save a slight increase in magical energy. Most couldn't even sense such faint trepidations in their surroundings. But Nirvelli did, bursting into Laz's room and rushing him and his father to the underground storage area they kept, so as to stop pests from stealing their food. They had almost made it when the bombardment began.The last thing Laz saw was the look in his mother's eyes, something between fear, panic, and something much more primal and terrifying, before he was thrown into the damp metal box. Then everything went white as beams of radiant light fell from the night sky, decimating everything they touched. The box collapsed around him, nearly crushing him as he tried to escape, to no avail. He likely would've died if it weren't for the heavy defense enchantments that allowed the storage container to take as much damage as it did without breaking.
But it seemed that he had traded one hell for another, as he was now trapped in the darkness of the now cramped compartment. He wasn't sure how long he had been trapped in his prison, only that the shaking of the bombardment had stopped shortly after had been trapped. The time crawled on terrible slowly as he tried to make his way out of his prison, calling through the tiny cracks in the metal for someone, anyone, to come save him. And then, when it seemed like no one would save the poor twelve year old, he sat down in a corner and cried himself into a fitful sleep, having exhausted himself in his attempts.
It would be another 3 maddening days that Laz would spend trapped in his confinement, three days munching on the remains of their family's food stores, of calling out for help until his throat was raw and sore, of listening with dread as the beast of pandora pawed through the wreckage soon after, growling and fighting amongst themselves for the burnign scraps and remains of the village that had once been his home. Three days of where he felt an ever going certainty that he was going to die in here. Either from dehydration, starvation, or just from the stress of it all, he was going to die and this crumpled metal box would be his tomB. It was in this dark moment, however, that he heard-no, felt a voice. It was soft, distant, but it called to him. It promised him survival, purpose, a way out, and most of all, it promise power. Power to take down those who had ruined everything, taken everything from him, and had confined him to this dark hell hole to die.
He had no other options, and even of he did, he likely wouldn't have taken them. With this offer, he felt all of his despair and hopelessness turn into anger and rage. And so, he accepted, and the world went darker than darkness. The roof of his prison was turned into not but a fine layer of dust, obliterated by whatever magic this voice possessed.
'But that is onlya hint' The voice would whisper into his mind, 'of the power I can give you. But trials still await you in the travel to my domain. If you wish to turn back now, I won't stop you.' The voice needn't have bothered voicing the option. He had made his choice already.
What followed was a month long journey through the Pandoran wilderness that felt like ages. Laz would have perished several times over if it weren't for the voices words and abilities, teaching him how to track, how to hunt, and most importantly, it taught him how to hide from the most savage creatures that stalked the treacherous jungle at night. And while he was mostly safe during these nights, the sounds pf jungle meant he rarely found himself sleeping restfully. Anymoment, some creature could stalk through the trees to snatch him away to their lair and end him. This paranoia ate away at him so much that he almost never slept more than an hour at a time, and when he did, it was usually from exhaustion.
But when the month had ended, Laz would find himself at an ancient temple, broken and decayed, with strange carvings of bestial lizard-like beings that stood on two legs. He could not read the language as he walked past the carvings, but he could feel the sense of peril and danger they impressed upon him. They wanted him to go no further, were warning him of danger possibly greater than anything the young lad had faced before. but he had nothing else to strive for. He had already gone far from where most tribes tended to travel, and without the voice, he would not survive the journey back. so, pushing the feelings of apprehension and dread that the carvings tried to instill in him to the back of his mind, he marched forward into the depths of the temple. Despite it's age, the structure remained brightly illuminated by green leyline carved into the stone, seeming to draw magical energy from the land around it to power its systems.
Down and down and down he went, the voice growing ever stronger as he proceeded, telling him of every loose stone and trapped passage that stood between him and it. And before long, he arrived at his destination. Entombed within a massive crystalline structure, as cracked and decrepit as the rest of the temple, was a pristine black scythe of some otherworldy make. And it was from this weapon the the voice spoke to him, with only one question.
"Do you accept the power of I, Jamaerah the Watcher of Fate, Weaver of Magic, and Purifier of Pandora, boy?
Lazulin did not respond with a word, but with his actions. He walked up to the crystaline structure and, with slight hesitation, placed his hand upon it. With a soft peel like the ringing of a bell, the crystalline prison shattered, the scythe floating in the air above him ominously as the voice barreled out it's response to his acceptance.
"Than let us now be one, Lazulin Mulciber, and may those who stand before our might, like all else in existance, be returned to the pure dust from whence they came!" And with that bellowing closer, the scythe descended on Lazulin in the blink of an eye, the blade stabbing itself into his eye. But there no sound of steel cutting flesh, no blood, only a scream of pain as LAz's mind began to fill with images, like an entire sea of information was flooding into his mind, filling his consciousness to the bursting. And just when it seemed like he would succumb, the sythe suddenly became enveloped in a soothing light, black switching to white as it split into an array of bandages that wrapped around his head. Laz would stand somewhat paralyzed by the event, his mind struggling to recover before finally giving into the exhaustion that filled his body. And so, with a loan whimper and the thud of a body hitting the floor, Jamaerah and Lazulin were bonded together, the journey they would soon go one beginning in earnest.
| Magic: |
Eye of Jamaerah: A Magic gifted to him by an ancient being of the same name, this magic is currently incomplete and much weaker than it should be due to Laz's own inexperience with it, as well as his body and will not being strong enough to handle the strain of it's full power. As it is currently, the Eye has two states: Active and Inactive.
In the Inactive state, Laz looks like he normally does and doesn't gain much in the way of special abilities. In this state, not much occurs except that his sight remains unaffected by non-magical attempts to obscure his vision, such as smoke or darkness. No matter the conditions, he can always see perfectly fine. He can also see through thin materials if he focuses some magical energy into his eyes, stuff like cloth, paper, thin planks of wood, etc. His main use for this ability is during his training with Jamaerah in understanding magic in all it's forms. The Inactive state also causes his body to constantly drain magical energy from his surroundings, thought the amount is small enough that it doesn't normally amount to much, especially given the amount of magic present in the environment. This energy is stored within the eye, for use in Laz's studies of magical energy during meditation and in helping to reinforce his body while in the Active state.
Speaking of the Active state, this is how Laz does most of his fighting, allowing Jamaerah's magical energy to channel through him in order to awaken his senses and empower him. Jamaerah's influence is shown in the large spectral black eye the appears over his shoulder, exuding a strange aura that is both pleasing and disturbing to be in the presence of. While this eye is out, Laz's body is becomes decorated with a number of light green-ish blue lines that pulse with light, reinforcing his body and increasing his physical abilities with magical energy. This allows him to move faster and hit harder than he normally could, to the point where he can even leave deep dents in metal without breaking his bones from the punch.
Along with this, Jamaerah acts as a magical support system, using his knowledge to mentally correct Laz's short-comings in a fight, enabling him to become a more capable combatant than he normally would be, though Laz is rather loathe to rely on the ancient being. So much so that, unless the fight is something serious, he tends to reject this assistance completely. Along side that, Jamaerah also assists in providing Laz with increased visual capabilities, linking his mind with the eye on his shoulder to provide him with full 360 degree vision, is capable of viewing magical energy, and proves useful if someone attempts to use magic to obscure his vision, as it can still see for him. The eye, while unaffected by physical attacks, can be blinded through use of magic that directly targets it or severs Laz's mental connection with it and, by proxy, Jamaerah's consciousness.
Born of the Blood Rite: Lazulin is not a normal human being. When he was still developing the womb, his mother partook in the ritual to become one of the Drakesworn, consuming the blood of her dying companion in order to fend of the savage beast that had brought them down. As such, some of a Drakesworn's abilities ~~and some of their curse~~ has been passed on to him. As such, his physical abilities, constitution, and senses are noticeably greater than that of most other humans, not including the use of magic. This gives him a slight edge in physical combat, as he's able to surprise most with his strength, durability, and stamina if they underestimate him due to his appearance. It also gives him a rather robust immune system, making it so he's never gotten sick in his life before, not even with the cold.
However, Laz also inherited a portion of the Drakesworn's infamous madness and bloodlust, manifesting with him as a rather nasty temper and an intense lust for battle. While he has worked in habits to contain and control these impulses over the years, they are still difficult for him to really control, especially in regards to anything regarding the Librarium. When they are brought into the picture, Laz's mood will near instantly worsen, and any control he has over himself becomes tenuous at best.
In the Inactive state, Laz looks like he normally does and doesn't gain much in the way of special abilities. In this state, not much occurs except that his sight remains unaffected by non-magical attempts to obscure his vision, such as smoke or darkness. No matter the conditions, he can always see perfectly fine. He can also see through thin materials if he focuses some magical energy into his eyes, stuff like cloth, paper, thin planks of wood, etc. His main use for this ability is during his training with Jamaerah in understanding magic in all it's forms. The Inactive state also causes his body to constantly drain magical energy from his surroundings, thought the amount is small enough that it doesn't normally amount to much, especially given the amount of magic present in the environment. This energy is stored within the eye, for use in Laz's studies of magical energy during meditation and in helping to reinforce his body while in the Active state.
Speaking of the Active state, this is how Laz does most of his fighting, allowing Jamaerah's magical energy to channel through him in order to awaken his senses and empower him. Jamaerah's influence is shown in the large spectral black eye the appears over his shoulder, exuding a strange aura that is both pleasing and disturbing to be in the presence of. While this eye is out, Laz's body is becomes decorated with a number of light green-ish blue lines that pulse with light, reinforcing his body and increasing his physical abilities with magical energy. This allows him to move faster and hit harder than he normally could, to the point where he can even leave deep dents in metal without breaking his bones from the punch.
Along with this, Jamaerah acts as a magical support system, using his knowledge to mentally correct Laz's short-comings in a fight, enabling him to become a more capable combatant than he normally would be, though Laz is rather loathe to rely on the ancient being. So much so that, unless the fight is something serious, he tends to reject this assistance completely. Along side that, Jamaerah also assists in providing Laz with increased visual capabilities, linking his mind with the eye on his shoulder to provide him with full 360 degree vision, is capable of viewing magical energy, and proves useful if someone attempts to use magic to obscure his vision, as it can still see for him. The eye, while unaffected by physical attacks, can be blinded through use of magic that directly targets it or severs Laz's mental connection with it and, by proxy, Jamaerah's consciousness.
Born of the Blood Rite: Lazulin is not a normal human being. When he was still developing the womb, his mother partook in the ritual to become one of the Drakesworn, consuming the blood of her dying companion in order to fend of the savage beast that had brought them down. As such, some of a Drakesworn's abilities ~~and some of their curse~~ has been passed on to him. As such, his physical abilities, constitution, and senses are noticeably greater than that of most other humans, not including the use of magic. This gives him a slight edge in physical combat, as he's able to surprise most with his strength, durability, and stamina if they underestimate him due to his appearance. It also gives him a rather robust immune system, making it so he's never gotten sick in his life before, not even with the cold.
However, Laz also inherited a portion of the Drakesworn's infamous madness and bloodlust, manifesting with him as a rather nasty temper and an intense lust for battle. While he has worked in habits to contain and control these impulses over the years, they are still difficult for him to really control, especially in regards to anything regarding the Librarium. When they are brought into the picture, Laz's mood will near instantly worsen, and any control he has over himself becomes tenuous at best.
| Miscs : |
His guild mark is placed on his right shoulder and is a plain black color
