Post by varden on Feb 23, 2011 19:47:29 GMT -5
I know this will probably not be accepted, especially since I'm a new guy, but oh well, at least I tried! I know about his age, yaddayadda, read the History it explains everything. 
Username: Varden
Other Characters: None but my fists, they are so great they count as one.
Character's Name: Varden Abbadon Spyros the "Chaos Bringer"/"Artisan of War".
Nicknames (Optional):Chaos/ Artisan of War/War
Age:2102
Gender:Male
Breed:Demigod
Good or Evil:Chaotic Good
Weapon of Choice:Spear and Shield
Fatal Flaw:Wound the warrior by crushing his spirit, his heart. Varden gets easily attached to other people and knowing they might be in danger will simply destroy his moral. Varden never knows when to retreat, even if all is failing he will just keep on slashing through enemies, even if that costs him his life, that could also count as weakness.
Godly Parent:Zeus
Claimed?: Yes
How were they claimed?: Varden was delivered to a greek hunter named Spyros("Spirit" in Greek), years passed by and he never truly knew what he was, his powers were amazingly superior to the regular demigod and that allowed him to perceive there was something inside him, that he wasn't really just a human. His father raised him alone and one day when Varden turned eleven the old man could no longer keep the secret to him and revealed Varden's true nature...He wasn't impressed!
Cabin Number: One (Zeus)
Mortal Parent: Spyros Abbadon
Years At Camp: From the very beginning.
All Year Round or Just Summers?:All Year Round.
Siblings: None
Description: Varden never leaves the camp, nor should he leave since he refuses to dress up like a modern/normal guy. He insists on wearing his battle armor, his helm(Mix between Greek and a Roman Legionnaire). When not wearing the helm(almost never) he has short, dark brown hair, blue eyes, a strong and authoritarian look on his face. The face of the experienced warrior is well displayed in him. He has a muscled toned body, he's athletic, a complete powerhouse!
Personality: Varden is violent(Not against his allies or loved ones), wise, experienced and benevolent to the weaker ones. He is proud of all the battles he has fought so far. With the brain of a master tactician he is ruthless in battle, patient, with a surprising talent for timing and tactics, he has never lost a war, therefore he is known as the "Artisan of War", he created wars, he lived wars, he won wars! The expression "Don't start what you can't finish" does not fit him at all. In a more personal tone, when around friends/allies he is nice and friendly, always up for a drink or two...But, if he's training an ally, don't expect the same friendliness for he will show no mercy! He will make you work harder than a mule.
Theme for the next bit: Click here!
History
For the Battle, click here!
"I am Varden, Chaos, The Artisan of War! Unlike you...I am immortal, age does not affect me. I've seen more than your entire family has ever seen. I have fought creatures whose nature lies beyond your comprehension. I live forever or die in War. Are there more like me? Unlikely! Do I care? Not at all! Face me...and die!"
Favorite Genre(s) of Music: None, he doesn't like YOUR music!
Favorite Pastime(s): Training, hunting and relaxing near a calm river.
Best Friend(s): None, open for business...
Enemy(s):None, totally open for business...
RP Sample:
Dr. Evil- Crucify the death with rusty nails and old bones. Hang them with their own guts. They shall always return, even if it's only inside your head! You can't kill the unforgettable, learn to deal with it, and you may survive.
He walked fast to the other side of the room and took something out of the cabinet...A bouquet of Roses, filled with blood and some of the flowers already decaying. Yet he looked at the flowers with a smile on his face. He sure wasn't that friendly type of guy, but he knew how to act like one.
"I found these a few days ago. Not much, but since you are special Brooke, you deserve them!" He walks slowly to her and lowers himself handing the flowers. It almost made him look like a sad person looking for friends, but deep inside he wasn't. Looks could be deceiving!
"Macabre place this is, yet sometimes I like to have a touch of the normal world in here, those flowers represent the only good things this world ever had, a moment of peace, un momentum of love, sad how this world is decaying like those flowers. They die, all there is shall die with them!" He didn't think he was poetic, he had always been like this as far as he could remember. The sadness of the world was brighter with the blood and the guts. Bashing heads against metal tables had never been as good as it was today. He looked at Brooke, he really saw something on her. Maybe it was the way she talked and walked, he could sense her lunacy miles away, but in his eyes, she wasn't lunatic, she was smart and different in a good way.
"They call me many things, yet the true name resides within myself. The flash of life mixed with the flesh of life forming a bloody gory dance in the middle of this own room, that's what I truly am. A project of extreme brutal ways, of piercing knifes and heavy hammers crushing the skulls of those who defy our moral! I am the krieg of hope for salvation! And I am far away from ordering hope to be unleashed...." He continued to walk in circles around the room looking at the rotten corpses and the fresh meat. The smell was horrifying and the screams were still echoing on the hospital deep inside his head. Although they were dead, they were still screaming.
He then stops in front of the door and looks back at Brooke "Do you have a Master, Brooke? May be a bit capricious of me, but I am quite selective, and you would be my perfect helper. This doesn't disturb you, and I've been feeling lonely lately, I need someone to help me! If you say no, I will accept your decision and respect it, and you are free to go. I will not hurt you, I could never hurt such an interesting individual!" He looked at her trying to smile waiting impatiently for her answer.
Other: I know it's hard to accept a character that doesn't age, and might sound a bit too Overpowered that he lived for over two thousand years, but I think Varden would only bring a fun mix to all this, he would be the experienced warrior the younger ones can turn to in their hour of need, when they seek for guidance, etc... I think it would also be fun to see him try to understand some things from the modern world since he's quite attached to his past and refuses to join the "future". If, you don't accept him, well, I'll accept your decision even tho I think he would be quite interesting.
Username: Varden
Other Characters: None but my fists, they are so great they count as one.
Character's Name: Varden Abbadon Spyros the "Chaos Bringer"/"Artisan of War".
Nicknames (Optional):Chaos/ Artisan of War/War
Age:2102
Gender:Male
Breed:Demigod
Good or Evil:Chaotic Good
Weapon of Choice:Spear and Shield
Fatal Flaw:Wound the warrior by crushing his spirit, his heart. Varden gets easily attached to other people and knowing they might be in danger will simply destroy his moral. Varden never knows when to retreat, even if all is failing he will just keep on slashing through enemies, even if that costs him his life, that could also count as weakness.
Godly Parent:Zeus
Claimed?: Yes
How were they claimed?: Varden was delivered to a greek hunter named Spyros("Spirit" in Greek), years passed by and he never truly knew what he was, his powers were amazingly superior to the regular demigod and that allowed him to perceive there was something inside him, that he wasn't really just a human. His father raised him alone and one day when Varden turned eleven the old man could no longer keep the secret to him and revealed Varden's true nature...He wasn't impressed!
Cabin Number: One (Zeus)
Mortal Parent: Spyros Abbadon
Years At Camp: From the very beginning.
All Year Round or Just Summers?:All Year Round.
Siblings: None
Description: Varden never leaves the camp, nor should he leave since he refuses to dress up like a modern/normal guy. He insists on wearing his battle armor, his helm(Mix between Greek and a Roman Legionnaire). When not wearing the helm(almost never) he has short, dark brown hair, blue eyes, a strong and authoritarian look on his face. The face of the experienced warrior is well displayed in him. He has a muscled toned body, he's athletic, a complete powerhouse!
Personality: Varden is violent(Not against his allies or loved ones), wise, experienced and benevolent to the weaker ones. He is proud of all the battles he has fought so far. With the brain of a master tactician he is ruthless in battle, patient, with a surprising talent for timing and tactics, he has never lost a war, therefore he is known as the "Artisan of War", he created wars, he lived wars, he won wars! The expression "Don't start what you can't finish" does not fit him at all. In a more personal tone, when around friends/allies he is nice and friendly, always up for a drink or two...But, if he's training an ally, don't expect the same friendliness for he will show no mercy! He will make you work harder than a mule.
Theme for the next bit: Click here!
History
WARNING: Wall of Text
Chapter 1 - Listen to my Cry
The Leaves of Autumn danced with the wind as the cold breeze of the night passed through the dark wanderer's hair. Welcome to Greece, land of philosophy, mathematics, Mythology, pretty much anything you can think of, even gastronomy! The people passing by weren't that interested in why some random man stood there in the middle of the road, with a baby in his hands, staring at the sky, fascinating, strange, yet no one seemed to care, kinda like Tokyo streets in the modern days, someone could be getting stabbed repeatedly by some maniac and people would just walk by and pretend like they saw nothing. His dark leather shoes decided to move forward as the baby in his arms just remained quiet and calm, he wasn't so much for crying, in some way, the infant was admiring the sky just like the dark stranger. The child seemed like a newborn yet his eyes were strange, they narrowed the scene with a careless look on them, almost like if he didn't care about what would happen next!
Hours passed by, the scent of those same leaves was starting to get dull and boring, even tho a newborn enjoys the first perfumes mixed with oxygen everything gets boring after a while. The sounds of steps kept on repeating themselves almost like a pop beat, repetitive and catchy. Where were they going? How would a baby know? The stranger moved swiftly through some bushes and walked across some sort of forest for a few more minutes before stopping near a small hut, the hut belonged to a man named Spyros. Spyros was the average get-a-long-with-everyone-and-every-single-living-being(haha) type of guy. A hunter he had followed his family's footsteps without complaining, he was simple, he couldn't ask for more. Even tho in Greece every man had the opportunity to fill a spot on Politic he had never been interested in paper-pushing jobs, he preferred his relaxing life in the woods, away from the stress and confusion. Spyros was getting old, approaching his forty's, it could be seen in his body, he was growing weaker, he had more troubles getting out of bed in the morning, started to feel pain on his back and legs...Time wasn't being friendly with him.
If he died, the only thing he would regret was not having formed a family, he had never married, his parents were long gone and he had no siblings. The stranger knew about this, but he also knew about his kind heart, the smile he always had in store for whoever roamed those roads, and that was one of the reasons why they chose him, they would never choose an evil greedy man, or a famous bastard stroking his ego, they needed someone with a low profile and smart enough to know what was good and what was bad, Spyros was a perfect match. The stranger laid down the baby near the entrance to the hut and knocked on the door. The deep, warm, green eyes took a peek outside, measuring the man, the weak hand reached for the door and slowly opened it.
What happened next? We don't know, but the stranger entered the house and the baby was left alone, still quiet and calm, he wasn't afraid of being alone. They probably talked for hours before Spyros appeared near the entrance again with an alarmed look on his face, pale as the moon, cursing the Gods as he approached the little, pink thing laying on the floor waiting for him. The stranger didn't leave the house yet he was no longer inside...Strange, unless he jumped from a window which would be quite silly, random and somewhat stupid. The hunter looked at the baby again and almost like if he asked him to act normal without uttering a word the baby cried for the first time.
Hours passed by, the scent of those same leaves was starting to get dull and boring, even tho a newborn enjoys the first perfumes mixed with oxygen everything gets boring after a while. The sounds of steps kept on repeating themselves almost like a pop beat, repetitive and catchy. Where were they going? How would a baby know? The stranger moved swiftly through some bushes and walked across some sort of forest for a few more minutes before stopping near a small hut, the hut belonged to a man named Spyros. Spyros was the average get-a-long-with-everyone-and-every-single-living-being(haha) type of guy. A hunter he had followed his family's footsteps without complaining, he was simple, he couldn't ask for more. Even tho in Greece every man had the opportunity to fill a spot on Politic he had never been interested in paper-pushing jobs, he preferred his relaxing life in the woods, away from the stress and confusion. Spyros was getting old, approaching his forty's, it could be seen in his body, he was growing weaker, he had more troubles getting out of bed in the morning, started to feel pain on his back and legs...Time wasn't being friendly with him.
If he died, the only thing he would regret was not having formed a family, he had never married, his parents were long gone and he had no siblings. The stranger knew about this, but he also knew about his kind heart, the smile he always had in store for whoever roamed those roads, and that was one of the reasons why they chose him, they would never choose an evil greedy man, or a famous bastard stroking his ego, they needed someone with a low profile and smart enough to know what was good and what was bad, Spyros was a perfect match. The stranger laid down the baby near the entrance to the hut and knocked on the door. The deep, warm, green eyes took a peek outside, measuring the man, the weak hand reached for the door and slowly opened it.
What happened next? We don't know, but the stranger entered the house and the baby was left alone, still quiet and calm, he wasn't afraid of being alone. They probably talked for hours before Spyros appeared near the entrance again with an alarmed look on his face, pale as the moon, cursing the Gods as he approached the little, pink thing laying on the floor waiting for him. The stranger didn't leave the house yet he was no longer inside...Strange, unless he jumped from a window which would be quite silly, random and somewhat stupid. The hunter looked at the baby again and almost like if he asked him to act normal without uttering a word the baby cried for the first time.
Chapter 2 - From Steel and Tears!(The Forge and the Hammer)
"Varden, you have to move quickly, the animals will just escape!" This was followed with a sincere "Yes, father...". The baby had grown into the happy, active pre-teen Varden. Varden had the regular dreams any kid had, he was eager to travel some day, meet new cultures, new people, develop new friendships. The boy was quite social yet to clumsy in the hunting arts, even tho that disappointed his father, Spyros still loved him more than anything in this world, it's like he always had a spot for hope, even if that hope was taking long to achieve the material world.
While having dinner Spyros eyed down the boy with a deep look, almost like he was making a decision, testing his mind. Varden met his eyes and looked confused at his father. They both stood silent for a few minutes and then Spyros broke that silence with a simple yet complex question. Spyros asked if the boy thought he was ready to know something that would shake his world, something that would either drive him insane or turn him into a useful weapon for the world. Varden was a demigod, Zeus the Father of all Gods was also HIS father...He had powers he had never imagined to have. The young boy was perplex, dazzled and scared at the same time. He trembled and shivered for a few seconds in disbelief.
This information took a few days to be digested as he was still not ready to accept all this, but when acceptance came, curiosity also came along. He wanted to test his abilities, his boundaries! For months he trained in the woods, not caring about anything else, with a wooden sword he found out his hands felt comfortable holding a weapon. He was able to move quicker than normal if he focused on it, he was amazingly strong for a boy of his age and Spyros watched from his window with a smile on his face, a smile of accomplishment and approval.
Death was in the air. Spyros couldn't get out of bed, Varden cried near the cold body of his mentor. Spyros was greatly ill. The locals could do nothing for him even tho they loved Spyros. Yet the old man didn't look sad, he looked at Varden with yet another smile across his lips and stretched his arm so he could feel the boy's hair with his hand "Don't worry...My afterlife will be good for raising such a brilliant kid...Don't cry for me, leave, travel like you wanted to, be someone, live up to the expectations! And before I forget...Try not being an awful hunter!". Spyros laughed warmly one more time before holding Varden's hand tightly and releasing his spirit from this world, he slowly closed his eyes and said goodbye to the land that saw him grow.
Varden cried for days near his father's body ignoring the calls for reality by the rest of the people. Ultimately he became a strong, handsome man that helped the villagers day and night, he was seventeen and seemed to have a bright future ahead of him.
Yet he felt empty, he was tired of living in the same place, he wanted to travel. The local blacksmith made an offer to him, he would create a spear and a shield as a token of gratitude. Varden accepted the gift and so for six months the blacksmith worked hard on his best creations so far. The weapons had special powers, simply because they had not been created by steel only, but also by the tears of a Demigod, that cried for what he lost. Varden packed his stuff and left for adventure.
While having dinner Spyros eyed down the boy with a deep look, almost like he was making a decision, testing his mind. Varden met his eyes and looked confused at his father. They both stood silent for a few minutes and then Spyros broke that silence with a simple yet complex question. Spyros asked if the boy thought he was ready to know something that would shake his world, something that would either drive him insane or turn him into a useful weapon for the world. Varden was a demigod, Zeus the Father of all Gods was also HIS father...He had powers he had never imagined to have. The young boy was perplex, dazzled and scared at the same time. He trembled and shivered for a few seconds in disbelief.
This information took a few days to be digested as he was still not ready to accept all this, but when acceptance came, curiosity also came along. He wanted to test his abilities, his boundaries! For months he trained in the woods, not caring about anything else, with a wooden sword he found out his hands felt comfortable holding a weapon. He was able to move quicker than normal if he focused on it, he was amazingly strong for a boy of his age and Spyros watched from his window with a smile on his face, a smile of accomplishment and approval.
Death was in the air. Spyros couldn't get out of bed, Varden cried near the cold body of his mentor. Spyros was greatly ill. The locals could do nothing for him even tho they loved Spyros. Yet the old man didn't look sad, he looked at Varden with yet another smile across his lips and stretched his arm so he could feel the boy's hair with his hand "Don't worry...My afterlife will be good for raising such a brilliant kid...Don't cry for me, leave, travel like you wanted to, be someone, live up to the expectations! And before I forget...Try not being an awful hunter!". Spyros laughed warmly one more time before holding Varden's hand tightly and releasing his spirit from this world, he slowly closed his eyes and said goodbye to the land that saw him grow.
Varden cried for days near his father's body ignoring the calls for reality by the rest of the people. Ultimately he became a strong, handsome man that helped the villagers day and night, he was seventeen and seemed to have a bright future ahead of him.
Yet he felt empty, he was tired of living in the same place, he wanted to travel. The local blacksmith made an offer to him, he would create a spear and a shield as a token of gratitude. Varden accepted the gift and so for six months the blacksmith worked hard on his best creations so far. The weapons had special powers, simply because they had not been created by steel only, but also by the tears of a Demigod, that cried for what he lost. Varden packed his stuff and left for adventure.
Chapter 3 - The Mountains of Pain and Anguish(The Stone of Blood)
This was unknown territory, Varden was out of Greece, somehow he lost part of himself along the way. He traveled across so many different places that he almost forgot his origins.
Locals called this place the Mountains of Pain and Anguish for a few morbid reasons, most people that crossed the mountains either ran away and killed themselves in madness or just never returned. Their body would later be found completely dismembered, dismantled and disfigured. Varden was fearless and decided to just proceed and walk through the rocks known only as Stones of Blood.
The stench was disgusting, it smelled like a thousand corpses rotting at the same time, mixed with puke and other things Varden refused to describe, that was his only problem so far. He suddenly turned around and heard someone screaming. Voices started to talk with him in his head. It seemed like the place was haunted, the few trees talked with people, they told them about their past, and memories of his father came to his mind. The hero refused to go down like that and kept on walking trying to shut those memories. His legs were growing heavier and he was starting to get tired for no apparent reason. For the first time he cursed his real father for not helping him now.
A chilling voice passed through his shoulder, and a giant shadow covered all of the light around him, now he was truly scared, the voice was strong and sounded almost demonic, the creature behind him was probably three times his size. The keeper of the mountains...The voice talked again, asked him why he was stupid enough to enter the realm of Madness. Varden slowly turned around to face the creepiest thing he had ever seen. A golem, a humanoid made of stone with red gems carved in his shoulders and arms. He was big and went by the name Bloodstone. For some reason, the thing seemed mad, well...He was probably mad all the time! Varden wasn't going down without a fight so he jumped against the creature and jammed his shield into the Golem's head. That didn't seem to hurt him, only aggravate him.
Bloodstone punched Varden in his stomach so hard he made him fly a few meters, the Demigod could already feel the blood rising to his mouth. The Golem thought he was a silly weakling with no real purpose. Varden looked up with anger in his face almost like he was sending a big "Fuck you" to his daddy... When would he actually be useful? Varden would have to do everything alone again. He ripped the cloak strapped around his neck and gently twisted his neck relieving his muscles and bones. "Come here piece of useless rock!" And once again he charged against his enemy that just kept on pushing him away finding all this extremely funny.
Varden noticed the cliff nearby and harassed his opponent forcing him to slowly follow him to the cliff. When he finally managed to make Bloodstone sprint towards him he moved to a side allowing the stupid beast to fall down. Luck wasn't on Varden's side as the creature grabbed his leg and dragged him under with him, he quickly grabbed his spear and jammed it inside the rocks having to hold the Golem's weight. He started to kick and move around in mid-hair but the thing would not let go of him so in a burst of anger he concentrated his energies on his foot and stepped on his face as hard as he could cracking the stone on the Golem's forehead and making him fall down to his doom.
"Cool..." He could now breathe safely.
Locals called this place the Mountains of Pain and Anguish for a few morbid reasons, most people that crossed the mountains either ran away and killed themselves in madness or just never returned. Their body would later be found completely dismembered, dismantled and disfigured. Varden was fearless and decided to just proceed and walk through the rocks known only as Stones of Blood.
The stench was disgusting, it smelled like a thousand corpses rotting at the same time, mixed with puke and other things Varden refused to describe, that was his only problem so far. He suddenly turned around and heard someone screaming. Voices started to talk with him in his head. It seemed like the place was haunted, the few trees talked with people, they told them about their past, and memories of his father came to his mind. The hero refused to go down like that and kept on walking trying to shut those memories. His legs were growing heavier and he was starting to get tired for no apparent reason. For the first time he cursed his real father for not helping him now.
A chilling voice passed through his shoulder, and a giant shadow covered all of the light around him, now he was truly scared, the voice was strong and sounded almost demonic, the creature behind him was probably three times his size. The keeper of the mountains...The voice talked again, asked him why he was stupid enough to enter the realm of Madness. Varden slowly turned around to face the creepiest thing he had ever seen. A golem, a humanoid made of stone with red gems carved in his shoulders and arms. He was big and went by the name Bloodstone. For some reason, the thing seemed mad, well...He was probably mad all the time! Varden wasn't going down without a fight so he jumped against the creature and jammed his shield into the Golem's head. That didn't seem to hurt him, only aggravate him.
Bloodstone punched Varden in his stomach so hard he made him fly a few meters, the Demigod could already feel the blood rising to his mouth. The Golem thought he was a silly weakling with no real purpose. Varden looked up with anger in his face almost like he was sending a big "Fuck you" to his daddy... When would he actually be useful? Varden would have to do everything alone again. He ripped the cloak strapped around his neck and gently twisted his neck relieving his muscles and bones. "Come here piece of useless rock!" And once again he charged against his enemy that just kept on pushing him away finding all this extremely funny.
Varden noticed the cliff nearby and harassed his opponent forcing him to slowly follow him to the cliff. When he finally managed to make Bloodstone sprint towards him he moved to a side allowing the stupid beast to fall down. Luck wasn't on Varden's side as the creature grabbed his leg and dragged him under with him, he quickly grabbed his spear and jammed it inside the rocks having to hold the Golem's weight. He started to kick and move around in mid-hair but the thing would not let go of him so in a burst of anger he concentrated his energies on his foot and stepped on his face as hard as he could cracking the stone on the Golem's forehead and making him fall down to his doom.
"Cool..." He could now breathe safely.
Chapter 4 - From the North I hail!
For the Battle, click here!
This was new...What they called snow! It felt cold, but maybe because he was a Demigod, it wasn't that bad. It was harder to walk in this environment but he could deal with it easily. Where was he going? Wherever his legs took him!
At the end of the road a man called for him, he had quite the amount of beard, wore heavy leather jackets and had an axe strapped on his back. He called for Varden and the hero decided he was probably not a threat. The man introduced himself as Gargas the Merchant and offered himself to work as a guide for Varden, show him around. The villages looked so barbarian and rustic compared to the ones in Greece, and it seemed like they adored different Gods, the one they talked most about was Odin, Gargas kept on repeating "For Odin!" In almost every sentence he said, it was getting quite annoying.
They finally reached the town where Gargas lived, it was an enormous city known as Miklagard, according to the merchant the name meant The Great City, and seeing as the proportions of the place were something else, he would have to agree with the name. The people on the streets cried for their lost relatives, it's like a war was going on in there. Wars fascinated Varden, he was deeply interested so when one of the Generals decided to meet with him and get to know him he was quite happy.
He met the General, his name was Fardol the Skullcrusher, don't ask why he has that name, it's self-explanatory. The man was huge, bigger than Varden, and that was something, he carried a mace around and was always ready for battle. He explained Varden that was not a safe area as they were being attacked by clans from the East, rapists and pillagers. After listening to this tale of sorrow Varden offered his spear and shield to be part of the Defenders. He didn't know this people yet he felt obligated to help them end this suffering. The General thanked his offer and suddenly he became the "Outsider", children looked at him trying to imagine how strong he was. Elders laughed as he explained them what kind of Gods he had.
Varden trained and worked with them for months, waiting for the enemy armies to arrive, he knew everything about the so called Valhalla, or Ragnarok. Their religion wasn't that bad, in the afterlife, they could fight for the rest of their days in eternity, that was something he admired. From the walls of the city a trumped of war alarmed the defenders and not long after they were standing in the cold battlefield named The Valley of the Damned...May they be the Damned ones and not the proud fighters of Miklagard.
The soldiers that were coming against them looked intimidating, they resembled giant ogres but with a more humanoid form. They wore black plate armors and helms with horns made of the whitest bone he had ever seen. Their moral was as high as high could get, they screamed for blood and torture! Varden looked around and studied the field for a few minutes, he then proceeded to give instructions to the General, of what he should do. Fardol was impressed, he called him a master tactician and laughed as hard as he could "May your God be right my friend!".
The swords met each other and blood was squirting everywhere, the heavy boots stepped on lacerated bones. Each warrior kept screaming for their God as they kept on fueling their hate, none of them was ready to go down...Fardol kept on yelling "Regroup and destroy them all...WE BRING RAGNAROK!".
After a few hours Varden looked around, he stood victoriously with his new comrades in a pool of blood and severed heads. He could finally smile, this had been quite the battle. A rose of flesh and carnage spread the scent of adrenaline throughout the ranks of Miklagard as they all cheered for more!
The General approached Varden and explained that without his ideas and strength they would've not pulled it off, and so he made Varden the Artisan of War, he was a tactician and worked as a commander. For years he stayed with them and lived with them because they were like him. Their enemies started to call him Chaos and he liked that name, so wherever he went, people would know him as Chaos and he would gladly reply with a hearty hello.
At the end of the road a man called for him, he had quite the amount of beard, wore heavy leather jackets and had an axe strapped on his back. He called for Varden and the hero decided he was probably not a threat. The man introduced himself as Gargas the Merchant and offered himself to work as a guide for Varden, show him around. The villages looked so barbarian and rustic compared to the ones in Greece, and it seemed like they adored different Gods, the one they talked most about was Odin, Gargas kept on repeating "For Odin!" In almost every sentence he said, it was getting quite annoying.
They finally reached the town where Gargas lived, it was an enormous city known as Miklagard, according to the merchant the name meant The Great City, and seeing as the proportions of the place were something else, he would have to agree with the name. The people on the streets cried for their lost relatives, it's like a war was going on in there. Wars fascinated Varden, he was deeply interested so when one of the Generals decided to meet with him and get to know him he was quite happy.
He met the General, his name was Fardol the Skullcrusher, don't ask why he has that name, it's self-explanatory. The man was huge, bigger than Varden, and that was something, he carried a mace around and was always ready for battle. He explained Varden that was not a safe area as they were being attacked by clans from the East, rapists and pillagers. After listening to this tale of sorrow Varden offered his spear and shield to be part of the Defenders. He didn't know this people yet he felt obligated to help them end this suffering. The General thanked his offer and suddenly he became the "Outsider", children looked at him trying to imagine how strong he was. Elders laughed as he explained them what kind of Gods he had.
Varden trained and worked with them for months, waiting for the enemy armies to arrive, he knew everything about the so called Valhalla, or Ragnarok. Their religion wasn't that bad, in the afterlife, they could fight for the rest of their days in eternity, that was something he admired. From the walls of the city a trumped of war alarmed the defenders and not long after they were standing in the cold battlefield named The Valley of the Damned...May they be the Damned ones and not the proud fighters of Miklagard.
The soldiers that were coming against them looked intimidating, they resembled giant ogres but with a more humanoid form. They wore black plate armors and helms with horns made of the whitest bone he had ever seen. Their moral was as high as high could get, they screamed for blood and torture! Varden looked around and studied the field for a few minutes, he then proceeded to give instructions to the General, of what he should do. Fardol was impressed, he called him a master tactician and laughed as hard as he could "May your God be right my friend!".
The swords met each other and blood was squirting everywhere, the heavy boots stepped on lacerated bones. Each warrior kept screaming for their God as they kept on fueling their hate, none of them was ready to go down...Fardol kept on yelling "Regroup and destroy them all...WE BRING RAGNAROK!".
After a few hours Varden looked around, he stood victoriously with his new comrades in a pool of blood and severed heads. He could finally smile, this had been quite the battle. A rose of flesh and carnage spread the scent of adrenaline throughout the ranks of Miklagard as they all cheered for more!
The General approached Varden and explained that without his ideas and strength they would've not pulled it off, and so he made Varden the Artisan of War, he was a tactician and worked as a commander. For years he stayed with them and lived with them because they were like him. Their enemies started to call him Chaos and he liked that name, so wherever he went, people would know him as Chaos and he would gladly reply with a hearty hello.
-A lot of other things happened after that. Varden ended up leaving once again to travel some more, he found new cultures, he studied war techniques and improved his abilities. He fought against creatures of all sort and eventually he stayed in the Camp with the new Demigods, where he now works as the experienced master. He's like a teacher, and he loves helping the younger ones!
"I am Varden, Chaos, The Artisan of War! Unlike you...I am immortal, age does not affect me. I've seen more than your entire family has ever seen. I have fought creatures whose nature lies beyond your comprehension. I live forever or die in War. Are there more like me? Unlikely! Do I care? Not at all! Face me...and die!"
-Varden
Favorite Genre(s) of Music: None, he doesn't like YOUR music!
Favorite Pastime(s): Training, hunting and relaxing near a calm river.
Best Friend(s): None, open for business...
Enemy(s):None, totally open for business...
RP Sample:
Dr. Evil- Crucify the death with rusty nails and old bones. Hang them with their own guts. They shall always return, even if it's only inside your head! You can't kill the unforgettable, learn to deal with it, and you may survive.
He walked fast to the other side of the room and took something out of the cabinet...A bouquet of Roses, filled with blood and some of the flowers already decaying. Yet he looked at the flowers with a smile on his face. He sure wasn't that friendly type of guy, but he knew how to act like one.
"I found these a few days ago. Not much, but since you are special Brooke, you deserve them!" He walks slowly to her and lowers himself handing the flowers. It almost made him look like a sad person looking for friends, but deep inside he wasn't. Looks could be deceiving!
"Macabre place this is, yet sometimes I like to have a touch of the normal world in here, those flowers represent the only good things this world ever had, a moment of peace, un momentum of love, sad how this world is decaying like those flowers. They die, all there is shall die with them!" He didn't think he was poetic, he had always been like this as far as he could remember. The sadness of the world was brighter with the blood and the guts. Bashing heads against metal tables had never been as good as it was today. He looked at Brooke, he really saw something on her. Maybe it was the way she talked and walked, he could sense her lunacy miles away, but in his eyes, she wasn't lunatic, she was smart and different in a good way.
"They call me many things, yet the true name resides within myself. The flash of life mixed with the flesh of life forming a bloody gory dance in the middle of this own room, that's what I truly am. A project of extreme brutal ways, of piercing knifes and heavy hammers crushing the skulls of those who defy our moral! I am the krieg of hope for salvation! And I am far away from ordering hope to be unleashed...." He continued to walk in circles around the room looking at the rotten corpses and the fresh meat. The smell was horrifying and the screams were still echoing on the hospital deep inside his head. Although they were dead, they were still screaming.
He then stops in front of the door and looks back at Brooke "Do you have a Master, Brooke? May be a bit capricious of me, but I am quite selective, and you would be my perfect helper. This doesn't disturb you, and I've been feeling lonely lately, I need someone to help me! If you say no, I will accept your decision and respect it, and you are free to go. I will not hurt you, I could never hurt such an interesting individual!" He looked at her trying to smile waiting impatiently for her answer.
Other: I know it's hard to accept a character that doesn't age, and might sound a bit too Overpowered that he lived for over two thousand years, but I think Varden would only bring a fun mix to all this, he would be the experienced warrior the younger ones can turn to in their hour of need, when they seek for guidance, etc... I think it would also be fun to see him try to understand some things from the modern world since he's quite attached to his past and refuses to join the "future". If, you don't accept him, well, I'll accept your decision even tho I think he would be quite interesting.
THE END
