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Mas Bagus┏━━━━━━━━━┓
◊ Aɠҽ: 34 ◊
◊ ❝ Beware the rumbling, for it heralds something much worse then a simple landslide❞ ◊
◊ Cσɳƚιɳҽɳƚ σϝ Oɾιɠιɳ: ȶɦɛ ʍօʊռȶǟɨռɛֆ - ǟʀƈǟɖɨǟ ◊
◊ Pɾαƈƚιƈҽԃ Mαɠιƈ: Dαɾƙ ◊
The commandment and summoning of beasts and horrors, to infuse the body with the essence of things that have never seen light and project their greatest terrors upon those before him. It is only fitting that one who has plunged into the earth's depths has bound its greatest tragedies to serve something greater. But one must be careful to not let such bloodthirsty minds overwhelm their own.
It's a violent and unsavory magic, unbecoming of a mage who is thought of as a guardian. Yet would it not be the job of such a man to risk everything in their line of duty? Why hide behind shields and blessings when they do little to stop the danger? Laws mean little to tangible efforts of protection, and that is a mindset shared unspoken.
◊ Rҽʅαƚισɳʂԋιρ ɯιƚԋ Rσყαʅƚყ: Protective Family◊
A simple man is all Therion is. He had been raised as a guardian of the kingdom and the things that threaten it from below, without, and within. Many would compare him to a hound, he would not digress. Those who are close enough to see him in court would notice how close he seems to be to the family, not merely as an advisor or friend but something more. The children play round his ankles, and the king would always listen to his soft tone, there is trust there. A bond.
┗━━━━━━━━━┛
┏━━━━━━━━━┓
Born feral is what they say. Born under a cursed constellation to parents who romped with as many mules as they did each other. The stories matter little, what facts there were spoke something clearly. That he had been born unwanted and unloved, left to an orphanage that did little to raise him.
The day the guard retrieved him for being a mage was perhaps the greatest blessing for him. He was given food, clothes, a name, a purpose, the old mage of the valleys had even treated him as a son. It was simple, it fit him.
It did not last, as all things do. Deep within those mines that gave their region so much raw wealth did something stir. Beasts lie in those depth, and far too often they are roused. This day was the last day of life for that old mage of the valley, but the start of the beast known as Therion.
Whispers filled the days of his return. ‘He called the worms upon his master's corpse! He commanded the great stone-drakes to eat that old man! He is the beast who bit the hand once collering his nature!’ Words mattered little, what facts remained was he lived and he was not going to leave what passed as his home behind. No matter what they saw him as.
From then on he was always looked upon with more scrutiny than ever before, becoming withdrawn from the public eye. It led to an isolation that was only after broken by the persistence of King Bernard. Perhaps it was pity, pragmatism, or something genuinely caring, but the older man treated him kindly. As a nephew perhaps closer than a son, but as someone close regardless. It was kindness shown to one who truly had nothing but an abstract duty, a moment that gave that duty a form.
One does not simply throw themselves into the depths of black magics for no reason after all, and Therion had been given all the reasons to do so. Even further than his previous master had done.
One would be hardstruck to find a good word to say about that hound Therion, but only if one asked those strange to him. Those who have had a moment to look upon him closely will find him quiet, lazy even. He toils away at his tasks without a word then wanders back to the lap of his liege to await the next.
It is hard to rouse him with pointed word or jabs, hard to make his face curl in disgust or thought, he would be as a statue if not for his steadfast adherence to that moniker. Many call him a beast, a hound, and like any hound they are protective of their masters. Therion is easy to rouse if one merely says a jape against that royal family that he seems ever so close to.
Yet, separated from his post people find a quiet sort. Not stupid, or simple, but also not complex. He enjoys the simplicity of a sunny day, or the words of a well written book. A man who keeps to himself and is generally unbothered, unconcerned with what is going around. That is until someone does the simple thing of asking for his assistance.
Despite this persona of someone disconnected, truthfully he enjoys helping others perhaps above anything else. Just seeing his help as unwanted most of the time.
◊ ơ℘ɛŋ ɬơ ʄཞıɛŋɖʂɧı℘: 3 ◊
◊ ơ℘ɛŋ ɬơ ཞơɱąŋƈɛ: 2 ◊
◊ Pʅҽαʂҽ ҽxρʅαιɳ ყσυɾ ɾαɳƙιɳɠʂ◊
It is hard to say that Therion would not want a friend, merely that he has been so closed off to those he does not know for so long that many give up on trying. The very same issue arises with romance, he is not a stranger to the idea of it or the steps to handle it. Merely he is inexperienced and rather dense, not seeing himself as a person that anyone would just flirt with.
◊ Aρρҽαɾαɳƈҽ ◊
┗━━━━━━━━━┛
◊ Therion◊
Beast of the Depths
◊ Aɠҽ: 34 ◊
◊ ❝ Beware the rumbling, for it heralds something much worse then a simple landslide❞ ◊
◊ Cσɳƚιɳҽɳƚ σϝ Oɾιɠιɳ: ȶɦɛ ʍօʊռȶǟɨռɛֆ - ǟʀƈǟɖɨǟ ◊
◊ Pɾαƈƚιƈҽԃ Mαɠιƈ: Dαɾƙ ◊
The commandment and summoning of beasts and horrors, to infuse the body with the essence of things that have never seen light and project their greatest terrors upon those before him. It is only fitting that one who has plunged into the earth's depths has bound its greatest tragedies to serve something greater. But one must be careful to not let such bloodthirsty minds overwhelm their own.
It's a violent and unsavory magic, unbecoming of a mage who is thought of as a guardian. Yet would it not be the job of such a man to risk everything in their line of duty? Why hide behind shields and blessings when they do little to stop the danger? Laws mean little to tangible efforts of protection, and that is a mindset shared unspoken.
◊ Rҽʅαƚισɳʂԋιρ ɯιƚԋ Rσყαʅƚყ: Protective Family◊
A simple man is all Therion is. He had been raised as a guardian of the kingdom and the things that threaten it from below, without, and within. Many would compare him to a hound, he would not digress. Those who are close enough to see him in court would notice how close he seems to be to the family, not merely as an advisor or friend but something more. The children play round his ankles, and the king would always listen to his soft tone, there is trust there. A bond.
┗━━━━━━━━━┛
ą ɖɛɛ℘ɛཞ ɖı۷ɛ
┏━━━━━━━━━┓
◊ ƈɧıƖɖɧơơɖ ◊
Born feral is what they say. Born under a cursed constellation to parents who romped with as many mules as they did each other. The stories matter little, what facts there were spoke something clearly. That he had been born unwanted and unloved, left to an orphanage that did little to raise him.
The day the guard retrieved him for being a mage was perhaps the greatest blessing for him. He was given food, clothes, a name, a purpose, the old mage of the valleys had even treated him as a son. It was simple, it fit him.
It did not last, as all things do. Deep within those mines that gave their region so much raw wealth did something stir. Beasts lie in those depth, and far too often they are roused. This day was the last day of life for that old mage of the valley, but the start of the beast known as Therion.
Whispers filled the days of his return. ‘He called the worms upon his master's corpse! He commanded the great stone-drakes to eat that old man! He is the beast who bit the hand once collering his nature!’ Words mattered little, what facts remained was he lived and he was not going to leave what passed as his home behind. No matter what they saw him as.
From then on he was always looked upon with more scrutiny than ever before, becoming withdrawn from the public eye. It led to an isolation that was only after broken by the persistence of King Bernard. Perhaps it was pity, pragmatism, or something genuinely caring, but the older man treated him kindly. As a nephew perhaps closer than a son, but as someone close regardless. It was kindness shown to one who truly had nothing but an abstract duty, a moment that gave that duty a form.
One does not simply throw themselves into the depths of black magics for no reason after all, and Therion had been given all the reasons to do so. Even further than his previous master had done.
◊ ℘ɛཞʂơŋąƖıɬყ ◊
One would be hardstruck to find a good word to say about that hound Therion, but only if one asked those strange to him. Those who have had a moment to look upon him closely will find him quiet, lazy even. He toils away at his tasks without a word then wanders back to the lap of his liege to await the next.
It is hard to rouse him with pointed word or jabs, hard to make his face curl in disgust or thought, he would be as a statue if not for his steadfast adherence to that moniker. Many call him a beast, a hound, and like any hound they are protective of their masters. Therion is easy to rouse if one merely says a jape against that royal family that he seems ever so close to.
Yet, separated from his post people find a quiet sort. Not stupid, or simple, but also not complex. He enjoys the simplicity of a sunny day, or the words of a well written book. A man who keeps to himself and is generally unbothered, unconcerned with what is going around. That is until someone does the simple thing of asking for his assistance.
Despite this persona of someone disconnected, truthfully he enjoys helping others perhaps above anything else. Just seeing his help as unwanted most of the time.
◊ ơ℘ɛŋ ɬơ ʄཞıɛŋɖʂɧı℘: 3 ◊
◊ ơ℘ɛŋ ɬơ ཞơɱąŋƈɛ: 2 ◊
◊ Pʅҽαʂҽ ҽxρʅαιɳ ყσυɾ ɾαɳƙιɳɠʂ◊
It is hard to say that Therion would not want a friend, merely that he has been so closed off to those he does not know for so long that many give up on trying. The very same issue arises with romance, he is not a stranger to the idea of it or the steps to handle it. Merely he is inexperienced and rather dense, not seeing himself as a person that anyone would just flirt with.
◊ Aρρҽαɾαɳƈҽ ◊
┗━━━━━━━━━┛