Post by chemus05 on Aug 3, 2012 17:27:21 GMT
Name: Cervantes de Leon
Age: 44 (72 chronologically, but, he obtained a new body 12 years ago)
Gender: Male
Birthplace: Valencia, Spain
Height: 6 feet (182 cm)
Weight: 196 lbs (89 kg)
Birthdate: January 1, (possibly 1536)
Blood Type: O
Fighting Discipline: Memories of Soul Edge
Weapon: Long sword and pistol sword
Weapon Name: Acheron and Nirvana
Appearance:
Alliance: Dark
Personality:
After three years of being swallowed by a dimensional rift opened by Soul Edge, he was forced to solitary confinement against his will without the pleasures a pirate like him would delight or even the aura of Soul Edge nearby which had taken up his obsession for the past years. Now, the desire for Soul Edge was fading although one for power was not. It was still there but he could sometimes unknowingly escape its fantasies. Still, he was the dreaded pirate by heart and he would deceive, torture and kill to bring himself to the top where his prize awaited him.
Background/History:
‘At the brink of success!’ he thought. He longed for the taste of liquor or rum or beer or even ale as he stared unto the wilderness unlike he had seen before. It hit him that such human desires affected him once again unlike during the days when only one craving sufficed him: Soul Edge. He was becoming human again, or atleast partially for it seemed that although his skin was reverting to its original color and his hair turning black once again, he noticed that aging hadn’t set place on him. He knew that he was old by human standards, although the exact years he had lived, he never remembered. He was still immortal, atleast for now. Its duration was a puzzle for him, however, he had no intention of finding out. He would find a way to get his past source of power and object of obsession.
In this place, there was no sun nor moon but eternal partial darkness, hazed by dark clouds that concealed all afar. Everything was stone and sand... and no water. He longed for its touch on his throat but could not feel real thirst. He wasn’t parched nor did he felt dry even though he had stayed in this dimension for who knows how long. He deduced that it was either because of his partial immortality or it was due to the strange law of nature of this place he had entered supernaturally.
He didn’t know how long he had stayed in this place without the sun and moon to count the day and month. There were no stars either to measure the years. With such length of time he had spent here, he had almost given up any hope of escaping it. Only the occasional dreams of the past revived them momentarily. How he longed for the aura of Soul Edge nearby! He regretted not bringing his sword fused with a shard of the evil sword when he was sucked into this strange place.
The skirmish with Ivy, who was his daughter, was still fresh in his mind. He had almost grasped in his hands the ultimate sacrifice to redeem his position as the main and sole agent of the sword. He was defeated and his mind shattered and even more, sucked into this unknown place to be imprisoned for eternity.
His mind went on and on as his years of solitude brought him nothing to occupy his thoughts.
Suddenly a spark of light, the size of a fist, appeared before him blinding him momentarily so that he shielded his eyes. The moment he took his hands off his face, the light was gone.
Then, it returned, this time much larger. And then, disappeared once again.
The fourth time, the fifth time and the sixth time, it came again, growing larger than the last. Surprisingly, it revealed pictures of the outside world: the shine of the sunlight, the green trees and grasses, a sacrifice of what seemed to be a cow on an altar and then a congregation of people in dull-colored robes chanting something incomprehensible.
Cervantes was quickly brought out of his trance as he stood and puzzled over this unexpected display. A cold gust blew from the area of the light unto him nearly blowing his hat away, ruffling his suit and his dark hair. It suddenly dawned into him that the images from the light wasn’t actually a vision nor a display in front of him but was another rift opened from where the group of people were gathered.
As the image grew even larger, he was able to see a man in front of the others, possibly their leader facing the light. It seemed that neither this man or the whole crowd couldn’t see from where Cervantes was for although they stared at it every now and then, they were focused on the man in front of the rift. The man in front kept looking every now and then, but would close his eyes and chant another set of incomprehensible words.
From the pockets of his robe, he produced a familiar object of blood red and steel. It was uneven with sharp edges all around.
One of the shards!
He sliced it across the flesh of his palm and let his blood drip into an altar he was in front of. At the moment the dark red ooze of his palm spattered on the altar, the rift expanded forcefully until it became the size of a large gate.
From where Cervantes stood, he felt a wind-like force sucking him towards the rift. Gladly, he took his first step and then, the next. He let his hand pass through the supernatural doorway.
“Let the whole world prepare. The day of the ghost pirate has come back again! And for my first sacrifice...”
Relations:
Daughter: Ivy Valentine
Crew: Possibly killed
Additional Information:
Theme| The Storm Bringer
Age: 44 (72 chronologically, but, he obtained a new body 12 years ago)
Gender: Male
Birthplace: Valencia, Spain
Height: 6 feet (182 cm)
Weight: 196 lbs (89 kg)
Birthdate: January 1, (possibly 1536)
Blood Type: O
Fighting Discipline: Memories of Soul Edge
Weapon: Long sword and pistol sword
Weapon Name: Acheron and Nirvana
Appearance:
Alliance: Dark
Personality:
After three years of being swallowed by a dimensional rift opened by Soul Edge, he was forced to solitary confinement against his will without the pleasures a pirate like him would delight or even the aura of Soul Edge nearby which had taken up his obsession for the past years. Now, the desire for Soul Edge was fading although one for power was not. It was still there but he could sometimes unknowingly escape its fantasies. Still, he was the dreaded pirate by heart and he would deceive, torture and kill to bring himself to the top where his prize awaited him.
Background/History:
‘At the brink of success!’ he thought. He longed for the taste of liquor or rum or beer or even ale as he stared unto the wilderness unlike he had seen before. It hit him that such human desires affected him once again unlike during the days when only one craving sufficed him: Soul Edge. He was becoming human again, or atleast partially for it seemed that although his skin was reverting to its original color and his hair turning black once again, he noticed that aging hadn’t set place on him. He knew that he was old by human standards, although the exact years he had lived, he never remembered. He was still immortal, atleast for now. Its duration was a puzzle for him, however, he had no intention of finding out. He would find a way to get his past source of power and object of obsession.
In this place, there was no sun nor moon but eternal partial darkness, hazed by dark clouds that concealed all afar. Everything was stone and sand... and no water. He longed for its touch on his throat but could not feel real thirst. He wasn’t parched nor did he felt dry even though he had stayed in this dimension for who knows how long. He deduced that it was either because of his partial immortality or it was due to the strange law of nature of this place he had entered supernaturally.
He didn’t know how long he had stayed in this place without the sun and moon to count the day and month. There were no stars either to measure the years. With such length of time he had spent here, he had almost given up any hope of escaping it. Only the occasional dreams of the past revived them momentarily. How he longed for the aura of Soul Edge nearby! He regretted not bringing his sword fused with a shard of the evil sword when he was sucked into this strange place.
The skirmish with Ivy, who was his daughter, was still fresh in his mind. He had almost grasped in his hands the ultimate sacrifice to redeem his position as the main and sole agent of the sword. He was defeated and his mind shattered and even more, sucked into this unknown place to be imprisoned for eternity.
His mind went on and on as his years of solitude brought him nothing to occupy his thoughts.
Suddenly a spark of light, the size of a fist, appeared before him blinding him momentarily so that he shielded his eyes. The moment he took his hands off his face, the light was gone.
Then, it returned, this time much larger. And then, disappeared once again.
The fourth time, the fifth time and the sixth time, it came again, growing larger than the last. Surprisingly, it revealed pictures of the outside world: the shine of the sunlight, the green trees and grasses, a sacrifice of what seemed to be a cow on an altar and then a congregation of people in dull-colored robes chanting something incomprehensible.
Cervantes was quickly brought out of his trance as he stood and puzzled over this unexpected display. A cold gust blew from the area of the light unto him nearly blowing his hat away, ruffling his suit and his dark hair. It suddenly dawned into him that the images from the light wasn’t actually a vision nor a display in front of him but was another rift opened from where the group of people were gathered.
As the image grew even larger, he was able to see a man in front of the others, possibly their leader facing the light. It seemed that neither this man or the whole crowd couldn’t see from where Cervantes was for although they stared at it every now and then, they were focused on the man in front of the rift. The man in front kept looking every now and then, but would close his eyes and chant another set of incomprehensible words.
From the pockets of his robe, he produced a familiar object of blood red and steel. It was uneven with sharp edges all around.
One of the shards!
He sliced it across the flesh of his palm and let his blood drip into an altar he was in front of. At the moment the dark red ooze of his palm spattered on the altar, the rift expanded forcefully until it became the size of a large gate.
From where Cervantes stood, he felt a wind-like force sucking him towards the rift. Gladly, he took his first step and then, the next. He let his hand pass through the supernatural doorway.
“Let the whole world prepare. The day of the ghost pirate has come back again! And for my first sacrifice...”
Relations:
Daughter: Ivy Valentine
Crew: Possibly killed
Additional Information:
Theme| The Storm Bringer