Daius Ammon

Daius Ammon

The DamnedName: Daius Ricard Ammon
Race: Dhampir, originally human.
Alignment: Neutral Evil
Class: Oracle (Bones) 1
StatsStr 8 Dex 16 Con 7 Int 14 Wis 14 Cha 20

HP 6 AC 19 Touch 13 Initiative +3
Fort -2 Reflex +3 Will +4

Role Lesser Evil, Knowledgeable, Expert in the Undead
AppearanceOnce possessed of charming goods looks and a warm youthful face, much has changed for Daius in the last few years. Where once his eyes were bright and a smile easy on his face, a friendly and well-loved fellow, now.. well, now he considers himself damned, for more reasons than one. His blond hair has turned ashen gray, with little of it's original color or luster left- just enough to be off-putting. Unkempt, it frames an emaciated face with hollow cheeks, dark brown eyes furtively angry. Where once a smile was the norm, now frowns and scowls crease his thin, pale lips. His skin reminds you of thread-bare paper stretched taut across his bones, hanging loose in some places and hardly there in others. The left side of his face is covered by a half-mask of white porcelain, obscuring it all. Heavy dark robes hang everywhere, barring from sight any other part of his body as a midnight-black mantle covers his shoulders and drapes down his back. It is patched in places, worn heavily, and cut in others- rather like the man within.
PersonalityOnce bright and cheerful, Daius is now a cold and sarcastic man. Not necessarily a mean or wicked one, his experiences and loneliness have left him bitter, and the path his life has taken helps public relations not at all. He is often quiet, pensive, and thoughtful... until he snaps out of them in an angry or depressed state, depending on his moods. What warmth and joy he may find is at the bottom of a bottle, of which he partakes not enough, if you follow his words. He is not a man of alchohol, however, for his frail body cannot hold the spirits and torments him the next day.
BackgroundBorn to Clan Ammon, one of the largest and wealthiest families in Lozeri, Daius' young life was happy and largely uneventful. Blissfully unaware of the problems of the 'lesser folk'- though you'd never catch him saying that, oh no!- he and his family went through the paces of nobility as they participated in the nobles' hunts. Given the best schooling possible, Daius took to it with an intelligent and insight that startled the teachers, and a charming poersonality to compliment his handsome features. Truly, an angel of a child, they said. Yet, displeased by the teachers' favor in this young Ammon boy, many of his age-mates took to bullying and teasing him. This grew progressively worse as the years went by, but young Daius took it in stride, secure in his position of nobility. The happiest day of his life was when the love of his life, Alicia Durnst, accepted his offer of marriage. Now pledged to be married in a years' time, they lived together under the watchful eye of his parents. The townsfolk gossiped amongst themselves as to how 'premature' their baby might be after their official marriage, but such thoughts could not be further from the young couples' minds. They loved each other wholly, and were devoted to maintaing the noble image of their respective families. However, that changed on the Day of Bones, held on the fifth of Pharast every year. Typically a holiday for the veneration of the honored ancestors, it has also held as a time for the worship of darker aspects of death..and undeath. On that fateful night, dear Alicia pricked herself while sewing a blanket for their newborns to come the following year. Seeing her, his first thought was concern- the second, none. An angry red haze washed over him, a violent shudder wracking him.

The next thing he knew, he was standing against the bedframe, his love lying in a collapsed heap upon the ground. The second, the taste of blood upon his lips. The third.. his body sending shivers of purest agony along his spine as phlegm-filled lungs coughed repeatedly. His entire left side, he was stunned to see, had become a mass of oozing sores and open wounds. What was more, his youth had been stolen from him by whatever fell force had come over him- his hair hung loose and gray, his skin taut across his thin frame. In a shaken and horrible state, he smashed much of his room before fleeing out the window. Hurrying upstairs, his parents found the corpse of Alicia upon the floor, and Daius nowhere to be seen. With tears in their eyes, they blamed the Devil in Grey for taking away their only son.

Fleeing with his ruined life, Daius stumbled lost through the forest with uncaring eyes and heart. His life, his dreams and love had been shattered by his own hand, whatever had happened. Finding the now-old man unconcious just outside of Courtaud, some local farmers nursed him back health, reducing a fever and treating the wounds that would never truly heal. He took up tasks like a dead man, earning the shivers and pitying stares of the villagers. Nothing drove him, and his life had been lost- just a shell of a man living for no reason he knew. That reason, however, was discovered a year after he arrived. While drowning his emptiness in liquor that would ruin him tommorow, a gaunt man dressed in black robes lay a hand upon his shoulder. Feeling sleep fall over him, Daius slumped, and was 'helpfully' supported to his room by the dark man. There he found the reason for his curse... Urgothoa's hand was upon him, guiding him through the vampiric legacy of some long-forgotten ancestor. The dark man explained that priests of her dark order operated here in Courtaud under the cover of secrecy, and offered him a place. He agreed aimlessly, lost. Yet one thing sparked a small flame in his gray mind- the promise that, given strength, he could bring his love Alicia back to him once more.

For the next four years, his mental state improved, even as his body remained declined. He devoured something that gave him meaning and purpose, an empty vessel filled with evil. He took pleasure in pain and strength, naked ambition for power foremost in his new-found dream. Along this path he was supported by the dark brotherhood, who eventually told him a secret of utmost importance and horrible import- The Whispering Way. Though he scorned the destruction of all, the acquisition of such power and immortality as a lich might control were a second flame, burning brighter than the first perhaps.

In time, though, a rift grew between the budding young oracle of Urgothoa and the cultists who venerated her, for they desired destruction foremost of all, consumed by the dark of the Whispering Way. Death, while a plaything of Daius and a welcome ally, was not one he would send others to so easily. Murder.. was evil. And a evil man he was not, he told himself. Any evil that he may do was caused by Urgothoa's dark embrace, and he was not to blame. Setting off on his own, Daius began the search for greater power, that his dual dreams might one day come to pass. Of life...and death.

Why can't we just get along?

Dice Roll: 3d6z
d6 Results: 5, 4, 6 (Total = 15)
Starting Gold (15)

It's a matter of principle ...smite smite smite!

~ Goes and flanks

Your're soooo gonna get sneak attack smited!

You've got only ONE chance to answer correctly so choose wisely!
Who is the prettiest most just and most benevolent god around!? hmhmh?!!? tell me!!


Powered by vBulletin® Version 3.8.8
Copyright ©2000 - 2015, vBulletin Solutions, Inc.
Myth-Weavers Status