__________________QUICK STATSName Laris Asmis
Age 22
Gender Male
Species Moon Demon
Ethnicity Burwenian for keepsake purposes, but demon?
Height 6 ft
Occupation Fake Cleric
Residence A commune in a small town tucked away in Serendipity.
__________________IN-DEPTH STUFFPhysical Description Laris stands at 6 ft. He is slender with more lean muscle than bulk. He has pale blue hair, which ironically is the same color as his eyes. There is a scar over his nose bridge that he received during the fire of his motherland, and scars riddled up his arms for dabbling in certain kinds of magic. Usually, he can be found wearing the typical cleric garbs that were provided inside the commune. The material is of a thin wool texture, but it is breathable in the elements.
Being of his type of physique, Laris is very agile and dexterous in movements which can be downright stealth-like. His posture usually resembles that of someone of nobility, being the furthest thing from Laris. He likes to put on a facade in most circumstances to prove he's just as righteous as the commune needs him to be. -insert eye roll here- His gaze is often unreadable, because most of of the time, Laris isn't aware of even his own thoughts. Emotions are more evident in his lips then any part of his face, which is not saying much. Sad, lips are in a thin line. Happy, lips are in a thin line.
His true heritage is starting to reveal its dominance as the years go on. Black veins are beginning to crawl up his hand, twisting around his forearm and stopping at the elbow. The moon claws coming out when the moon is at the full. Iridescent claws that expand about 3 inches.
This image was created using the artbreeder generator.
PersonalityAloof by nature. He's aware he's not exactly normal but he's not entirely sure on his species. The box is the thing that holds the key, but Laris doesn't have a way to open it. In most situations, he seems very charismatic - this is a front. Honestly, he doesn't believe in the stuff he's talking about, but if it makes you more devoted? Perfect. Laris enjoys watching people listen to his teachings, getting all excited, but deep down not even being remotely true.
He is reluctant to get close to anyone and tends to stick to the darker corners of the room. Not the first to engage in conversation, but will be more than happy to guide someone on the path to 'light' - or whatever the commune needs. Not being able to process his own thoughts well, he can go from emotionally despondent to exuberant in the same conversation. And if you have any ideas on how to open his box, Laris would get even more animated.
Magic/AbilitiesMoon Claws: These are claws that come out during the moon. They grow about three inches and look almost transparent until under the light. They can be used for fighting purposes, but usually Laris remains more focused on hiding them (usually donning gloves at nighttime with a fabric that cannot be penetrated by a blade)
Demon Healing: He heals quicker than humans. His overall healing ability is amplified by about 2x of a normal human, however, the healing is an extremely painful process. For example, if the skin is torn it will regenerate. The regeneration gives an almost searing type of sensation.
Shadow Carrier: Laris is able to use the shadows as allies. They whisper things to him. Advise him of different things. They are what he considers to be his greatest friends. One shadow in particular, Liyo, is the one he holds most dear. They are shaped in the form of a sparrow, and they tend to remain by Laris's side at all times.
RelationshipsHistoryA hissing wind swept against the older man's ear as he stared out into the sea of smoke. The flourishing village of Burwen had been stripped of its prosperity and conquered to a pile of soot.
Joah regretted accepting the letter from Eirlaw; he should have listened to his wife's pleas for him not to go. Witnessing the state of Burwen brought overdue tears to his wizened eyes and ignited a cough deep in his tired lungs. The cloth he tied around his face did little to stop the smoke from residing inside his bones. Ash sprinkled down from the sky, gathering on his worn tunic, bequeathing a smear never that would never wash away.
A large sack hung gingerly over his shoulder, carrying two shovels built for digging graves. He searched for any sign of life, turning every stone, kicking away rubble, but nothing.
Hours flew by as he trekked the land calling out for anyone who could answer the call. In the distance, he could see the silhouette of a temple nearly burned to the ground, but something - or someone - was standing in the middle of the pile.
Joah had lived for sixty-two years, which for most men, could be considered a real accomplishment. But, war was a keeper of men, on and off the battlefield. Joah was blessed never to see the churning tides of war. He had always been a sickly child, who turned into a frail man, and now, he was too old to fight.
As he approached the crumpled temple, he saw a boy standing among the pieces of broken stone, looking like a lost toy. The lost child stood there with dark eyes that carried a sheen of destruction. The boy's trembling hand clutched a box so tight that Joah thought the boy's knuckle would burst through the skin.
"Are you alone?" Joah asked.
The boy nodded. Joah noticed the boy's hands clenching further down on the box.
"Do you know where your parents are?"
The boy shook his head.
"Is there anyone left?"
The boy shook his head.
"Who did this?"
Old Joah expected the same flat response, but the boy did something unexpected this time. The boy guided his boney finger to the sky and left it there for a while. Then, averting his gaze toward the bleeding sky, Joah admired the stars but found no answers. He didn't know what the boy could have meant.
"I do not understand." Joah frowned at the boy.
"...not meant to understand," the boy whispered.
As Joah got closer to the boy, he saw a swathe of ash encasing his skinny arms. Burns dotted the boy's flesh, and Joah felt compelled to cringe. This boy had to be out here for at least three days; Joah could only picture the horrors this poor soul encountered.
"How about you come with me? I can get you something to eat and a warm place to sleep." Joah was one of the good ones. How could he leave this hopeless child behind? So, of course, he would ask him to come along. Because that's what Joah did, he preserved the good and upheld morality. He shunned the bad of the lands and stood by the gods' laws.
The boy shook his head, fastening his fingers around the small box. "St-stay here. I stay here."
Joah's eyes took in the desolation, visualizing the people's petrified faces as they faced the burning flames. "If you come with me. I can help you," Joah said with an inviting smile, "let me help you."
A breeze sliced through the silence, bringing forth the stench of dead flesh, reminding Joah of what happened here. Finally, the boy reluctantly nodded in agreement.
Joah forced a smile and offered his hand out to the little sprout. "Can I have your name?"
The boy frowned at the question, which made Joah regret asking. The haunting frown pried at the heart of Joah, not because of the sadness behind it, but because it echoed madness.
"Laris," the boy said, "my name is Laris."
-------
The couple in Serendipity raised Laris, and they did their best to provide for him. However, he always sensed the lingering fear they held for him and the box on the bedside table. And though they tried to peel away the veneer he had so carefully crafted, they could never puncture the feelings buried inside his chest.
In turn, he left the home and joined a commune. There he plays the role of a fake cleric, fooling everyone (including himself). But his ultimate goal is to discover what the contents of the box are, and finally determine what he actually is.
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