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» Bastian, Internal - The Daeva
Tarkya
 Posted: May 23 2013, 09:26 PM
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Classification: Internal - Atreia (Aion Online)
Name: Bastian
Age: 30
Gender: Male
Physical: user posted image
Bastian stands around 5’11’’, and is moderately built. He has pale skin with a lilac tint, dark blue eyes, and medium length, straw blonde hair. He has a mane of hair that runs down his spine in the same color as his hair, and his hands and feet are clawed and taloned.

Mental: Bastian is a quiet man, and tends to act a bit distantly around strangers. He’ll be polite to his superiors and cooperative with allies, and some might go so far as to call him a bootlicker, though this isn’t entirely true. Bastian has a streak of natural hotheadedness, one that he’s gotten quite good at covering under a professional mask, and around friends he’ll let his guard down and be rather friendly. However, he’ll be ruthless towards his enemies, and he’s capable of a frightening level of hatred - especially when it comes to the Elyos.

Bastian is a templar, a holy knight in the service of the Shedim Lords, and in battle he takes his position as a defender very seriously. He’ll throw himself into the fray, calling the ire of enemies to himself in order to keep them off his allies, and he’s the first to blame himself when things turn sour. It’s hard to tell sometimes if he’s doing his duty or being reckless, sometimes, but his status as an immortal means that he doesn’t have to worry too much about consequences. After all, the worst that could happen is he could die.

Background: Bastian was born in the rural region of Ishalgen, a place surrounded by sea and isolated from the rest of the world. He lived with his parents in a rather isolated home in the woods. His father was a blacksmith, but one specialized in tools rather than weapons. His mother was an apothecary who made medicines from the plants and herbs she was able to harvest from the region. Both of them coddled Bastian as a child, contrary to the norms of Asmodian culture. His life was one without worries.

It didn’t last.

Bastian and his mother were returning from gathering herbs on that fateful day, and both of them saw the smoke rising from their home. Bastian didn’t understand his mother’s fear, or why she had him hide away in the roots of a tree on his own, but he obeyed her until the dark set in and his fear overrode his obedience. He made his own way home, but what he found instead was a damp and smouldering ruin, being examined by a small group of people from the village. They were shocked by the boy’s appearance and were quick to spirit him away before he got a good look at the house, or what beneath the broken beams.

The people of Aldelle Village were not gentle with the truth. His parents had both died that day, trapped by collapsed beams in a house filled with suffocating smoke. Ten years old, Bastian found himself an orphan in a harsh world.

He wasn’t left alone - the asmodians may have been rough, but they valued community. The people of the village took him him, giving him a place to sleep and food to eat, but they did not treat him gently. He got a truly asmodian upbringing, one that involved work and chores, learning how to fight and how to hate. Eventually Bastian became a reclusive child, keeping to his own company. For a moment, the people of Aldelle Village worried that the boy’s spirit had been broken, but as he grew older he became more open to the people of the village - though he always maintained a certain careful distance.

The day the Ishalgen raiders came, Bastian was quick to volunteer to join them. It seemed like the only path that would lead him away from Ishalgen, with all of its bad memories, and it seemed like the one place he could be useful. Raiding wasn’t a glamorous job, but it was a necessary one, and he took to it easily. Here was a group of people who didn’t care about where he came from, so long as he met his quota and didn’t die. It seemed like Bastian had found his way forward. Life had other plans.

The raiders always had an eye towards potential profit, and Bastian was a strong, willing hand in their schemes. The plan was rather straightforward - there was an old, ruined prison on Ishalgen, infested with ghosts and undead. They would go in, clear out some of the undead, and take the valuables left on their corpses. The village would have fewer ghosts to worry about, the raiders would get some extra cash… it seemed like a win-win situation. What they weren’t expecting was the ghost of a warrior, one particularly angry with the actions of the raiders. As the fight quickly went south, Bastian called for the others to run while he kept the ghost distracted.

Later, he wondered why the ghost smirked as it plunged its sword into his chest.

He awoke in the village, confused and surrounded by a small mob. It took a while for him to fully comprehend what had happened - clearly he’d been dragged out of the prison camp and brought back to the village, but why was there such a fuss now?

Then he noticed the soul healer, , and it all became horribly clear. He hadn’t been rescued at the brink of death like he’d thought - Bastian had died that day, but he hadn’t stayed dead. Instead, he had ascended. He was a daeva.

He was quickly summoned to Pandaemonium and recruited into Asmodae’s defense. His status as a former raider and a resident of Ishalgen did him no favors - though he was afforded some base respect as a daeva, he was still seen as someone lesser than those of more noble blood. He was quickly sent to the Morheim Ice Fortress, and tasked with defending it from a new and rising threat.

The land of Morheim had always been plagued by rifts, doorways into the abyss that daevas often slipped through to invade the opposing half of the world. However, these rifts were new ones, and daevas did not come from them - instead, they would spill strange creatures into the world, dark ones with yellow eyes that attacked anything living in their path. Even daevas with their immortality had to fear these creatures - they resisted normal weapons and even the power of aether was blunted. Worse, they had a way of striking directly at the soul that could even destroy an immortal, and they would multiply if left unchecked.

Of course, no one had ever thought to fly through the dark rifts - they were simply too dangerous, and no one could be spared. Bastian thought otherwise; over the years he’d lost allies to the shadow monsters, nearly been taken by them himself… and an infestation had to be stopped at its source. When one of rifts opened within the fort, Bastian dared to take wing and flew directly into it.

What he found on the other end was the multiverse.

Abilities: As a daeva, Bastian possesses a strong ability to manipulate “aether”, a form of energy from his homeworld, using it to augment his attacks and defenses, create tethers to draw in and immobilize enemies, and may even be able to heal at high enough levels of skill. He is ageless, has an innate resistance to disease and poisons, and is practically immortal on his homeworld of Atreia. So long as there is an obelisk or kisk for his soul to return to, he will revive after “dying” with only minimal damage to his soul - though this immortality is nowhere near as effective in the multiverse at large. Being a daeva also gives Bastian the power of flight - he can manifest a pair of black-feathered wings that allow him to fly with the power of aether. However, due to the lack of aether in the multiverse, he is generally limited to gliding and assisted movement with them.

Bastian is trained as a templar, and is skilled with both sword and shield and greatsword. He specializes in defensive combat and enemy control, using his aether to strengthen his defenses and lure enemies to him - forcefully, if needed.

Equipment: Bastian enters the multiverse with a set of armor and weapons. The weapons have enchantments on them to allow them to damage heartless. He also carries a “cube”, the atreian equivalent of etherspace, which contains a number of potions and odella powder, a naturally occurring plant form of aether. Bastian also possesses a “kisk”, a form of portable obelisk that will allow him to return from death up to three times before breaking.

Sample Post:

“So that’s… what, the third time so far?”

Bastian grunted as he regained his bearings, aether gathering around him in a faint halo as the soul healer did their work. He didn’t even bother to look at Vargold as she perched on the steps of the cathedral. She probably still had that same stupid grin on her face, too. “You’re keeping count, now?”

Vargold stood and clapped a claw over his shoulder, a glint of bright red hair and a gleaming eye in the corner of his vision. “You really ought to give it up - those sun-suckers are gonna start recognizing you if you keep this up, and then they’ll really start messing with you.”

Bastian brushed her claw off his shoulder with a scoff. “What, like you? I don’t think anyone gets quite as… creative as you do, Vargold.” He checked his potions - shards, he was running low - and pulled out his last running scroll. “Those shadow spirits are still out there… I’m not going to let them run amok.”

“Yeah, well, maybe they’ll eat the Elyos, and then all of our lives’ll be easier.”

“And have to deal with whatever monsters they end up spawning? No thanks.” Bastian focused on the scroll as he chanted its words. He could feel it working, giving him the boost he needed to run just a little faster and a little further. Exhausted, the scroll crumbled in his claws. “Better to deal with them while they’re still small and weak.”

He began to leave, but Vargold stepped in his way, a frown on her face, and he found himself instinctively backstepping. The purple-skinned assassin was smaller than he was, but she was far older and more skilled than he would ever be. There was a frown on her lips as she crossed her arms. “Bastian. Do you have a death wish or something? I know losing Fylgja was rough, but you know that it’s gonna happen to the best of us.”

Bastian gave her a red glare. It had affected him, and he would be the first to admit it, but that didn’t mean he had to accept that there was nothing he could do about it. If he could make sure that there was at least one less of those cursed creatures in Morheim…

Bastian sighed, and walked past Vargold, out into the cold and darkness. There was work to do, and as a daeva of Asmodae he would get it done.

“I’ll see you at four.”

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Auragongal
 Posted: May 23 2013, 10:17 PM
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