soldier

Once-servant to the old Empire. Veteran of the Planemeld War. Failure of Yagahai. Crucifier of the Snake.Lucius has learned few things as thoroughly as slaughter, torture, and war. What manners and etiquette were bequeathed to him in noble youth are now scarcely remembered, and less utilized. Although he maintains an air of sophistication and civility when situations demand, he is otherwise cold and brooding, jaded and eternally in wrath by the bloody years of his life. He takes little comfort in the company of others, save for those others of mind liken to his; soldiers he has fought alongside, whose morals and empathy are as spent as his.Most find him brash, impolite, and even belligerent. Though he does not convey an aptitude of barbarism through manner, his actions instead speak to the internal savagery that has developed in his heart. Virtue means nothing to him. And honor means even less.The avenues of his prowess have strayed from the arts of craft; of the preservation of life and all things beautiful. His calling has become annihilation and destruction. Wherever he is sent, suffering follows in his wake, and he relishes in such opportunity to spill blood and spread fear in the hearts of his foes.

advent

BACKGROUNDBIRTHPLACE: CyrodiilBIRTHSIGN: The SerpentCURRENT HOME: Cyrodiil, Spatharia
FACTIONS: Cyrodiilic Empire, Imperial Legion (former) House Decentius Imperial Legion (current)RANK: Centurion (Cyrodillic Empire, former) Decurion (Decentii, Former). Bucellari-Sicarian (Decentii, Current).

APPEARANCEHAIR COLOR: ChestnutEYES: Silver-grayHEIGHT: 6'0"BUILD: Mesomorph, herculeanSCARS: Numerous facial, prominent burn scars on upper-left torso. Blade scars and arrow scars throughout body.FACIAL HAIR: Mostly shaven, hairline along jaw

HOOKS

LEGIONARY
From youth, Lucius was forged in the crucible of his father’s will; subjected to ruthless training that he might bear the Empire's standard by sixteen. It honed his body into a weapon, sure and steady, but carved strange edges in his mind. And yet, in those early years, he carried a warm heart -
bold, noble, kind.But with each clash of steel, each crimson-soaked field, every soul and every lick of blood drank from his sword - something within him began to splinter. The world soured in his eyes, and whatever brightness once lived was buried, stowed deeper and deeper by sod and corpse and rot.

ART PROFANED
Lucius likes to draw, paint, and create things out of his imagination. He does not like other people to know this. Those few who have seen his work and survived to tell the tale agree that he is somewhat good at it.

BUTCHER
Once a self-proclaimed defender of innocents, a path now long relented. Instead, the Cyrod has deigned to savagery. Where in younger years he would refuse the use of his sword against an innocent, now he has done so without question many-a-time. Indeed, the deterioration of his compassion into outright malice has left him utterly and without empathy. If you are too weak to defend yourself, you are too weak to live.

HARROWING INTERROGATOR
When a captured enemy has valuable information, it has oft become Lucius' charge to extract it from them. There are few who have outlasted his methods, and most come out begging for merciful death.

A DARK SECRET
There is a coldness about him that transcends mere apathy or malice. A chill that slips beneath the skin, stealing the breath from the world around. The air grows thin in his presence, as though warmth dares not linger. And in his gaze lies a frost not born of winter,
but of the void - endless, silent, unfeeling.Cold like death.

THE HAUNT
Trauma, malice, self-loathing, and a hatred unbound - these have taken root in Lucius, blooming into their darkest forms. Where once a quiet yearning for redemption stirred beneath the surface, now there remains only fury - a thirst for blood, unquenchable and wild. To him, the world has offered nothing but pain.
And so, pain shall be its recompense.The scorched sands of Hammerfell, the broken wastes of Craglorn, the shadowed hills of Colovia - all have known the torment of the Night Haunter. He moves like a wraith through these lands, choosing his victims without pattern, without mercy. Some whisper it is vengeance, blind and unrelenting. Others speak of something fouler still; a pure, venomous malice, the ruinous echo of a soul hollowed by madness.

Cadmor Bull-Horn
SaudadeYour return became my purpose. It tore my mind away from darker things, from the sands of the West. When there was a glimmer of hope, I sought it, grasped for it with every fiber I possessed.But now that you have reemerged from death itself, everything is changed. I have changed. I thought that we might return as we were, as brothers who understood each other greater than any other.And yet I cannot feel it. I yearn for your companionship, your brotherhood, but I cannot possess it. Where you have grown better, improved, I have grown worse. Worse than you can ever know.I wish that we were enemies, Bull-Horn, that you'd take your axe to my throat and end it all.

Rhiannon Auclair
PerilHair of ebon and eyes of amber, boring into me like spears. You see too much. Your hands sift through me like coarse sand, and though it bloodies your flesh you continue.For as much as you see, you don't yet notice the eyes staring back at you in the pit of my soul. They will reach out with burning limbs and drag you down to consume you.

Finnidor Giordant
DisdainSniveling little mage. If only you were not a prominent figure in the Dominus' court. I would break your little Westerling bones and send you back to the Knight-Kingdoms where you belong.

Titus Visellius Parthax (NPC)
ContemptLook at what you have forged, father. Are you proud? Do you smile when you look upon me and see what you have wrought?My agony is your doing. When at last my purpose is fulfilled and I breathe my last breath, I will find you. Whether in Aetherius or in Oblivion, I will seek you out and rip out your throat a thousand times that you might feel a fraction of the pain that you gave me.

Eris Blackthorn
AversionReach-dog. My blade thirsts for your blood. I do not trust you or your kind.At the first sign, I will gladly open you from throat to belly.

connections

Volund Decentius
RespectThe Emperor, a volatile man. Stone-faced, cruel. The man that the Empire needs. May he cut down the adversary, drive off the outland invaders. May he lead me to the slaughter.

Artoria Asina
AddictionI saw a little of your sister in you, when we first met. But the more I've come to know you, the less I see her purity in you.You are a tempest, fierce and wild, crashing through the heart of me. When I bite, you bite back, and when I cast you away - I long for your return. You are a drug, and I hate you for it. I loathe my want for you, that I seek you. What spell have you cast on me, Dancer?Will you dance away before I can shatter you?

Eva Bishop
IntriguedI thought you another brainless, witless noblewoman parading yourself around for suitors. You look the part.But I see your anguish. It is the only kind of empathy I feel.

Aurelia Asina
EchoWhat might we have been? Could you have crawled your way in, curled yourself about my heart? Renewed its Radiance?No, I think not. You would have tried. But your heart, so tender and radiant, would have been sapped into a husk.

Tiberius Sidonius Parthax (NPC)
HiraethI cannot see you anymore. Your face is gone from my memory. Have you abandoned me, sweet brother? I can't hear you. You don't come to my dreams. I have never needed your voice more than now, and yet you have gone away. Will you ever return?

Decortius Decurio
DerisionPriest. Your gods are asinine. You have wasted your life away for spirits that will abandon you.You cannot even master the raven-haired girl. And now you wither with age, and whatever charge you thought you had over her and your faith is failing.

Art