Post by ELDER GOD on Oct 23, 2010 22:27:43 GMT -5
Name: Vorador
Age: Unknown
Sexual Orientation : Heterosexual
Family : Sire- Janos Audron
Other: The Cabal
Physical Description: Vorador has been described as many things. Monster and destroyer have always been his favorite. With the ability to change his appearance not many have usually seen what he truely looks like and often it is in the form of a dark headed monster that none live to repeat. The vision of Vorador is perhaps the last thing from anyone's imagination that to see him.. to truly know what the creature is.. Dark hair that crowns his head, soft strands of perfectly delicate hair lays flat along his face. At times his hair down curl, but the weight of it keeps it rounding his head. Eyes that trace with flecks of red and dark brown in the candle light they show just how unnatural they truly are. Giving the eerie ethereal warmth glows of blood behind his stare. Though his face has been described with such hate, that his true face is one that leaves for words that defy his very nature. Such a face should not belong to such a man, a dark angel.. Standing at six foot three his is a man who towers over most men, but his body lacks any awkwardness and to be forever in such a form is a blessing. Innocents in his facial feature's lie as his lips smile to spread the lure of his cause. Unholy perfection.
Social Class: Vampire
Title: Leader of the Cabal
Personality
Cruelty to Vorador seem to be a sport he finds pleasure in the pain of the humans. None more so then the pain of Malek's dogs the Sarafan. Going out of his way to destroy humans associated to the Sarafan. Vorador is a malicious creature who does not enjoy hurting innocents the true innocents in Nosgoth is a dying breed. He is a man of strict morality when it comes to murder, yes the pain of the sarafan is his only joy these days (or nights) yet a death that is unjust in his cause? Comes swift with punishment of the offending vampire. A commanding presences he does not tolerate backtalk from anyone. He will punish even his own brides to show just how serious of a crime against him can be. Vorador believes that with power comes the weight of his actions for all to see. Trying desperately to be just among his own kind it is a liberty that he shares with very few mortals. Vorador is enthralled by his Bride Aleena a gypsy at heart she is the only woman that he trusts completely. Vorador is strict about the trust of vampires with in his Cabal if feels that he can no longer trust one of his vampires he puts them to an end ensuring they will not be reborn. It is a crime to go against the Cabal, and with out trial or even proof sometimes he will quickly react to accusation. Some say that Vorador is bias with his judgments and this is a true he does blind himself to his daughter Pandora and her own actions often giving her the power to kill at her discretion. A crime that he tolerates from no one else. Though just or unjust Vorador is a leader and he will do what ever it takes to protect his own vampires even if that means sacrifice.
Biography
Born in the slums of Nosgoth, Voardor's family wasn't truly a notable one among soldiers and nobles. There was little honor in being the son of a butcher shop keep. Though it was an honest living one that he learned to deal with. Thoughts of joining the King's army had usually haunted Vorador's mind, but his father was against it, his place was at home. Day after day it was the same thing, the same nothing the same... shame. Of course to him it was shame, shame that he couldn't thrive to change his life. Destiny wasn't something that the poor were blessed. Their role in life was to serve others. By his eighteenth birthday civil unrest hit Nosgoth like wave of plague. No one was safe, even the high mightiest the Royal family found blood at their doorstep. What chance did those who lived in poverty have when the nations of military came seizing every available man and child forcing them to serve their country. He had not envisioned war to be so cold.. he along with his younger brother forced to battle in the just cause of peace.
What he saw in the seven years of service to the crown were not peace... it was brutality it was cruel.. His brother died with in the first month of his enlistment. A loss that he could not have prevented but one that he swore would not be in vain. The day that war ended he'd all but swore to never pick up a sword in his life again. Having no idea that this choice was one he swore and one that was heard. Peace and kindness. It was a choice, one that that came in the form of what could be... from that moment on he could feel it. Something was always watching him, as the armies were disbanded, he was able to go home. Nothing was home anymore. The war had broken everything of his past no family no wife to go home to.. nothing. So, he became a wanderer.. feeling that chill of eyes on him where ever he went. Until the day he became to sense it more and more like a taste in his mouth. The taste of iron warm and consuming. He prayed he wasn't losing his mind, but there was no other explanation that he could figure.
The day Voroador died, it was a mix of both pain, and loss... The loss of humanity to that hands of a creature that no longer even looked human. A winged creature the type he heard stories of that took your soul to an eternal paradise. Janos Audron was his name, and it was this creature that was killing him. How to bring peace through death to release the ties of humanity. Bleeding to death, a cold corpse remained now truly hoping this was his end. His life was nothing nothing he could truly say ever made a difference. Perhaps it was his humility that his Sire took him. Perhaps it was potential Vorador didn't know. Words.. so many words came out of the other's mouth but he heard none. Echoes.. until it was all gone..
“When death embraces you in her cold arms, you long for it to last to be sweet. She welcomes you. Safety is an illusion, death is not my enemy she is my consort. I am her slave.”
No longer a human the exact events of what happened soon rushed his mind, he was attacked or so he thought. The more he remembered the more he was merely let it happen. Death came by the hands of an angel a demon if you really saw him.. But why? That question burned into his mind with more rage now the peace he had been trying to give himself seemed to sweep over with anger. This wasn’t what wanted but he hadn’t found it he didn’t bother to try. As if he knew it was hopeless he gave into it, and now the empty room seemed so dark. His eyes could see no a flicker of a candle burned anywhere but he could the defined wood, the way it cracked through years of wear. He saw the fabric its intricate weave as if from another era all together.. Then he saw him, the man he knew had done this to him. He felt an instant pull as if gravity itself bid he get up and move to him. Fear kept him from moving, his voice broken from the damage done to his throat finally began to heal itself. Slowly of course Voardor was a fledgling vampire that needed blood. The words that broke from his mouth were simple, but he was jut a simple man. “Why?” His eye’s seemed now laced with a sleepiness that wore upon his entire face even his body seemed tired.
“Why did you??” The other seemed to merely watch, and with a frown o his face that voice the way he moved.. EVERYTHING! He was unreal he was a spirit this was hell. It had to be hell.. He was lost a lost soul wasn’t he?? Then he Janos spoke so clear and commanding he shot open his eyes and felt his jaw drop. “You have such promise Vorador.. One day you will be capable of such great things… I see that now. I see also you are capable of such great evil things.. For your people you will give them hope, for your enemies you will be a dark entity among their spirits.” The words hit him as if some story that one tells children to put fear into them. He did not believe a single word this was not what he wanted, not the explanation he needed. “TELL ME WHAT YOU”VE DONE.” Vorador’s voice broke now, into a shout needing to understand. Though he already knew words, he needed to hear the words. “You know child, I have brought you here because you are to be my pupil. A new born vampire and one that must feed.” It was a gut wrenching feeling to know that you were now the thing that horror was built upon. The monsters in the night were real.
Years went by, learning from his master finding out that he was more then what stories had offered. His mind was something Voardor could not himself figure out. How could this man be a monster? He seemed more like monk really, even when he killed for food he held an aspect for respect for the dead. It was clear that mortals had fashioned them to be these monsters the evil in Nosgoth.. And Voardor felt the injustice of it all. Someone had to be blamed and of course it would be them, because they were afraid of how powerful the Vampire was. Their numbers were near nothing and nearly going to extinction as night after night he heard screaming. The Sarafan had its holy war against his kind… killing off every vampire they found burning them and destroying their ashes with curses. Vorador saw how much pain it caused Janos to lose one after another but he never once tried to stop it. Again this peace was maddening! How could he sit there and allow his sisters his brothers all to die it was not their fault. They had no protection against such factions as the Sarafan. Malek had driven their kind against the edge of a cliff and just a handful of them remained. The night Voardor left his sire he did so with regret but the gentleness in his master heart was killing them.
“You are a great man Janos, but if you allow them to die.. We will die too! Forgive me master.” Leaving the high protection of the mountains Voardor set upon himself to find them. To find every Sarafan dog and kill it,as if this would justify anything.. In his heart he knew it wouldn’t. So long had Janos kept Vorador away from the world how long.. For two hundred years Voroador never defied his master and all that changed the moment he walked out. It was not in him to be a relic of the past. He was no longer human, but he was a creature to be reckoned with. Sarafan died as easily as one crushed mice beneath their heels. The rumor that a master vampire hit his own ears.. Surprised Vorador never considered himself a master. It was all in vain, his search for others led to dead ends and the last of the vampires had become nothing more then stories. This would not last.. Voardor swore it would not, and one by one he created an army. Vampire that were fashioned to be his army. Hand selecting vampires of great importance, once human lives that were great. Power that transcended even death and as years went by the some died others vanished but the blood line was not dead.
Over time it was in Voardor’s best interest to kill vampires that seemed to grow too powerful, as if to keep the balance of power in his own favor. The young vampire had now become the master of his Cabal and with it came a chance to destroy now the Sarafan. Weakening their ranks infiltrating their humans the Cabal were everywhere. All vampries knew of him, and all knew what he was capable of.
Age: Unknown
Sexual Orientation : Heterosexual
Family : Sire- Janos Audron
Other: The Cabal
Physical Description: Vorador has been described as many things. Monster and destroyer have always been his favorite. With the ability to change his appearance not many have usually seen what he truely looks like and often it is in the form of a dark headed monster that none live to repeat. The vision of Vorador is perhaps the last thing from anyone's imagination that to see him.. to truly know what the creature is.. Dark hair that crowns his head, soft strands of perfectly delicate hair lays flat along his face. At times his hair down curl, but the weight of it keeps it rounding his head. Eyes that trace with flecks of red and dark brown in the candle light they show just how unnatural they truly are. Giving the eerie ethereal warmth glows of blood behind his stare. Though his face has been described with such hate, that his true face is one that leaves for words that defy his very nature. Such a face should not belong to such a man, a dark angel.. Standing at six foot three his is a man who towers over most men, but his body lacks any awkwardness and to be forever in such a form is a blessing. Innocents in his facial feature's lie as his lips smile to spread the lure of his cause. Unholy perfection.
Social Class: Vampire
Title: Leader of the Cabal
Personality
Cruelty to Vorador seem to be a sport he finds pleasure in the pain of the humans. None more so then the pain of Malek's dogs the Sarafan. Going out of his way to destroy humans associated to the Sarafan. Vorador is a malicious creature who does not enjoy hurting innocents the true innocents in Nosgoth is a dying breed. He is a man of strict morality when it comes to murder, yes the pain of the sarafan is his only joy these days (or nights) yet a death that is unjust in his cause? Comes swift with punishment of the offending vampire. A commanding presences he does not tolerate backtalk from anyone. He will punish even his own brides to show just how serious of a crime against him can be. Vorador believes that with power comes the weight of his actions for all to see. Trying desperately to be just among his own kind it is a liberty that he shares with very few mortals. Vorador is enthralled by his Bride Aleena a gypsy at heart she is the only woman that he trusts completely. Vorador is strict about the trust of vampires with in his Cabal if feels that he can no longer trust one of his vampires he puts them to an end ensuring they will not be reborn. It is a crime to go against the Cabal, and with out trial or even proof sometimes he will quickly react to accusation. Some say that Vorador is bias with his judgments and this is a true he does blind himself to his daughter Pandora and her own actions often giving her the power to kill at her discretion. A crime that he tolerates from no one else. Though just or unjust Vorador is a leader and he will do what ever it takes to protect his own vampires even if that means sacrifice.
Biography
"A mortal life was nothing more then a memory that fell to lost dreams now... Fragments of his mortal existance stain still the world of Nosgoth. Always mere feelings because no one could remember the face of such a mortal man."
Born in the slums of Nosgoth, Voardor's family wasn't truly a notable one among soldiers and nobles. There was little honor in being the son of a butcher shop keep. Though it was an honest living one that he learned to deal with. Thoughts of joining the King's army had usually haunted Vorador's mind, but his father was against it, his place was at home. Day after day it was the same thing, the same nothing the same... shame. Of course to him it was shame, shame that he couldn't thrive to change his life. Destiny wasn't something that the poor were blessed. Their role in life was to serve others. By his eighteenth birthday civil unrest hit Nosgoth like wave of plague. No one was safe, even the high mightiest the Royal family found blood at their doorstep. What chance did those who lived in poverty have when the nations of military came seizing every available man and child forcing them to serve their country. He had not envisioned war to be so cold.. he along with his younger brother forced to battle in the just cause of peace.
What he saw in the seven years of service to the crown were not peace... it was brutality it was cruel.. His brother died with in the first month of his enlistment. A loss that he could not have prevented but one that he swore would not be in vain. The day that war ended he'd all but swore to never pick up a sword in his life again. Having no idea that this choice was one he swore and one that was heard. Peace and kindness. It was a choice, one that that came in the form of what could be... from that moment on he could feel it. Something was always watching him, as the armies were disbanded, he was able to go home. Nothing was home anymore. The war had broken everything of his past no family no wife to go home to.. nothing. So, he became a wanderer.. feeling that chill of eyes on him where ever he went. Until the day he became to sense it more and more like a taste in his mouth. The taste of iron warm and consuming. He prayed he wasn't losing his mind, but there was no other explanation that he could figure.
The day Voroador died, it was a mix of both pain, and loss... The loss of humanity to that hands of a creature that no longer even looked human. A winged creature the type he heard stories of that took your soul to an eternal paradise. Janos Audron was his name, and it was this creature that was killing him. How to bring peace through death to release the ties of humanity. Bleeding to death, a cold corpse remained now truly hoping this was his end. His life was nothing nothing he could truly say ever made a difference. Perhaps it was his humility that his Sire took him. Perhaps it was potential Vorador didn't know. Words.. so many words came out of the other's mouth but he heard none. Echoes.. until it was all gone..
“When death embraces you in her cold arms, you long for it to last to be sweet. She welcomes you. Safety is an illusion, death is not my enemy she is my consort. I am her slave.”
No longer a human the exact events of what happened soon rushed his mind, he was attacked or so he thought. The more he remembered the more he was merely let it happen. Death came by the hands of an angel a demon if you really saw him.. But why? That question burned into his mind with more rage now the peace he had been trying to give himself seemed to sweep over with anger. This wasn’t what wanted but he hadn’t found it he didn’t bother to try. As if he knew it was hopeless he gave into it, and now the empty room seemed so dark. His eyes could see no a flicker of a candle burned anywhere but he could the defined wood, the way it cracked through years of wear. He saw the fabric its intricate weave as if from another era all together.. Then he saw him, the man he knew had done this to him. He felt an instant pull as if gravity itself bid he get up and move to him. Fear kept him from moving, his voice broken from the damage done to his throat finally began to heal itself. Slowly of course Voardor was a fledgling vampire that needed blood. The words that broke from his mouth were simple, but he was jut a simple man. “Why?” His eye’s seemed now laced with a sleepiness that wore upon his entire face even his body seemed tired.
“Why did you??” The other seemed to merely watch, and with a frown o his face that voice the way he moved.. EVERYTHING! He was unreal he was a spirit this was hell. It had to be hell.. He was lost a lost soul wasn’t he?? Then he Janos spoke so clear and commanding he shot open his eyes and felt his jaw drop. “You have such promise Vorador.. One day you will be capable of such great things… I see that now. I see also you are capable of such great evil things.. For your people you will give them hope, for your enemies you will be a dark entity among their spirits.” The words hit him as if some story that one tells children to put fear into them. He did not believe a single word this was not what he wanted, not the explanation he needed. “TELL ME WHAT YOU”VE DONE.” Vorador’s voice broke now, into a shout needing to understand. Though he already knew words, he needed to hear the words. “You know child, I have brought you here because you are to be my pupil. A new born vampire and one that must feed.” It was a gut wrenching feeling to know that you were now the thing that horror was built upon. The monsters in the night were real.
“What you teach me isn‘t what I need to learn.. There is a war out there! One you can not keep me from. It is time I put an end to the cries of my brothers.”
Years went by, learning from his master finding out that he was more then what stories had offered. His mind was something Voardor could not himself figure out. How could this man be a monster? He seemed more like monk really, even when he killed for food he held an aspect for respect for the dead. It was clear that mortals had fashioned them to be these monsters the evil in Nosgoth.. And Voardor felt the injustice of it all. Someone had to be blamed and of course it would be them, because they were afraid of how powerful the Vampire was. Their numbers were near nothing and nearly going to extinction as night after night he heard screaming. The Sarafan had its holy war against his kind… killing off every vampire they found burning them and destroying their ashes with curses. Vorador saw how much pain it caused Janos to lose one after another but he never once tried to stop it. Again this peace was maddening! How could he sit there and allow his sisters his brothers all to die it was not their fault. They had no protection against such factions as the Sarafan. Malek had driven their kind against the edge of a cliff and just a handful of them remained. The night Voardor left his sire he did so with regret but the gentleness in his master heart was killing them.
“You are a great man Janos, but if you allow them to die.. We will die too! Forgive me master.” Leaving the high protection of the mountains Voardor set upon himself to find them. To find every Sarafan dog and kill it,as if this would justify anything.. In his heart he knew it wouldn’t. So long had Janos kept Vorador away from the world how long.. For two hundred years Voroador never defied his master and all that changed the moment he walked out. It was not in him to be a relic of the past. He was no longer human, but he was a creature to be reckoned with. Sarafan died as easily as one crushed mice beneath their heels. The rumor that a master vampire hit his own ears.. Surprised Vorador never considered himself a master. It was all in vain, his search for others led to dead ends and the last of the vampires had become nothing more then stories. This would not last.. Voardor swore it would not, and one by one he created an army. Vampire that were fashioned to be his army. Hand selecting vampires of great importance, once human lives that were great. Power that transcended even death and as years went by the some died others vanished but the blood line was not dead.
Over time it was in Voardor’s best interest to kill vampires that seemed to grow too powerful, as if to keep the balance of power in his own favor. The young vampire had now become the master of his Cabal and with it came a chance to destroy now the Sarafan. Weakening their ranks infiltrating their humans the Cabal were everywhere. All vampries knew of him, and all knew what he was capable of.