Post by Mot on May 11, 2010 17:49:12 GMT -8
Name: Ereb Mot
Nickname(s): Goes by Mot.
Age: 322
Date of Birth: October 24
Sexuality: Will only mate with other Nosferatus.
Blood: Nosferatu Vampire
Abilities: Life Drain: When threatened, this ability allows its user to drain a small portion of life from his attacker(s); not nearly enough to kill them, but enough to stun an enemy or heal the user's small wounds.
Loyalty: Nature, the environment of Litharia
Status/Occupation: Collector of fine items, high status in Daemon world, supporter of the natural world
Appearance: Mot is tall for his species, standing at 5'8". He has not a hair on his body, looks quite frail and skinny, and has terrifying scarlet eyes.
Personality: Mot, while terrifying to all who know him, is truly a tender creature at heart and harms no one (unless, of course, they attack him first). He is quiet, but not at all shy; he thinks carefully before he utters a word, and is extremely cool and calculating. He believes that the world is a beautiful, fragile thing and that it should be treated with utmost care. Mot admires the Fae for their dedication to nature, and will help a Fae out in any circumstance. He is neutral toward shifters, but despises humans; he thinks they defile nature and hurt the land. Mot would never go out of his way to help a human unless the human provided suitable payment. Payment being a valuable item of great beauty. Mot knows he is frightening to behold, and that no sober Litharian would consider him "handsome", but he surrounds himself with beautiful objects to prove his worth and inner beauty. He is a collector of art, books, fine rugs, rare animals, and anything else attractive to him. While very well-off money-wise and extremely intelligent, Mot will still shake the hand of any creature no matter how lowly. Mot believes in fairness and kindness, and will go to great lengths to insure fairness in his business transactions and mandates. As a member of the Daemon "upper-class", for lack of a better term, he has much power over those who live around him, but never abuses this power. He despises his hunger for life and hates feeding; he chooses his victims carefully, usually from human prisons, people who lived selfishly and without remorse.
History: Mot grew up in a well to do family, and became enamored with the high life. His parents saw little of him due to their frequent business trips, but this affected him little. He became independent and spoke less, but other than these he remained the same. His favorite roon in the house was the vast library. Alone for many days at a time, Mot would read for hours and quickly learned all he could about Litharia and the Daemon world. As he grew older, his parents passed away and he inherited their riches. He fell in love with another Nosferatu, a horrifying female called Moria, and they lived with one another until he found her sleeping with and draining the life from Fae and humans. Disgusted, he threw her out and became a recluse for two decades. Afterwards, he became obsessed with fairness and made it part of his every action. Missing the happiness of his childhood, Mot started collecting objects of beauty and purity, especially books. He is growing old now, and is advisor to many Daemons (and sometimes other creatures) who seek his knowledge and aid.
Roleplay Sample: The sun had only just gone down, and already he was furious. Out in the city of Spirit looking for new treasures, Mot observed several human men hauling lumber off to build new stores and homes. Did they not know what they were doing to the land? Did they at all appreciate it? The Fae never committed such horrors. If Daemons and Fae could live without harm to the land, then why could these humans not do the same? He licked his lips. It had been ages since he had last fed, and as he watched the humans labour under the dying oaks and yews, Mot grew angry enough to take one. It was not difficult. None of his comrades tried to help him; one look at Mot and they ran screaming into the night, horrified by his glowing red eyes and long white fangs. His catch moaned and struggled under Mot's grasp, but it could not be helped. The life pulsing through the human made Mot practically shiver with anticipation, and he made quick work of the creature and left the filthy corpse where he had found it. Such loathesome animals, he thought. Shaking his head both at what he had done and what humans continued to do, Mot left the scene of his feeding and continued his search for treasure.
Nickname(s): Goes by Mot.
Age: 322
Date of Birth: October 24
Sexuality: Will only mate with other Nosferatus.
Blood: Nosferatu Vampire
Abilities: Life Drain: When threatened, this ability allows its user to drain a small portion of life from his attacker(s); not nearly enough to kill them, but enough to stun an enemy or heal the user's small wounds.
Loyalty: Nature, the environment of Litharia
Status/Occupation: Collector of fine items, high status in Daemon world, supporter of the natural world
Appearance: Mot is tall for his species, standing at 5'8". He has not a hair on his body, looks quite frail and skinny, and has terrifying scarlet eyes.
Personality: Mot, while terrifying to all who know him, is truly a tender creature at heart and harms no one (unless, of course, they attack him first). He is quiet, but not at all shy; he thinks carefully before he utters a word, and is extremely cool and calculating. He believes that the world is a beautiful, fragile thing and that it should be treated with utmost care. Mot admires the Fae for their dedication to nature, and will help a Fae out in any circumstance. He is neutral toward shifters, but despises humans; he thinks they defile nature and hurt the land. Mot would never go out of his way to help a human unless the human provided suitable payment. Payment being a valuable item of great beauty. Mot knows he is frightening to behold, and that no sober Litharian would consider him "handsome", but he surrounds himself with beautiful objects to prove his worth and inner beauty. He is a collector of art, books, fine rugs, rare animals, and anything else attractive to him. While very well-off money-wise and extremely intelligent, Mot will still shake the hand of any creature no matter how lowly. Mot believes in fairness and kindness, and will go to great lengths to insure fairness in his business transactions and mandates. As a member of the Daemon "upper-class", for lack of a better term, he has much power over those who live around him, but never abuses this power. He despises his hunger for life and hates feeding; he chooses his victims carefully, usually from human prisons, people who lived selfishly and without remorse.
History: Mot grew up in a well to do family, and became enamored with the high life. His parents saw little of him due to their frequent business trips, but this affected him little. He became independent and spoke less, but other than these he remained the same. His favorite roon in the house was the vast library. Alone for many days at a time, Mot would read for hours and quickly learned all he could about Litharia and the Daemon world. As he grew older, his parents passed away and he inherited their riches. He fell in love with another Nosferatu, a horrifying female called Moria, and they lived with one another until he found her sleeping with and draining the life from Fae and humans. Disgusted, he threw her out and became a recluse for two decades. Afterwards, he became obsessed with fairness and made it part of his every action. Missing the happiness of his childhood, Mot started collecting objects of beauty and purity, especially books. He is growing old now, and is advisor to many Daemons (and sometimes other creatures) who seek his knowledge and aid.
Roleplay Sample: The sun had only just gone down, and already he was furious. Out in the city of Spirit looking for new treasures, Mot observed several human men hauling lumber off to build new stores and homes. Did they not know what they were doing to the land? Did they at all appreciate it? The Fae never committed such horrors. If Daemons and Fae could live without harm to the land, then why could these humans not do the same? He licked his lips. It had been ages since he had last fed, and as he watched the humans labour under the dying oaks and yews, Mot grew angry enough to take one. It was not difficult. None of his comrades tried to help him; one look at Mot and they ran screaming into the night, horrified by his glowing red eyes and long white fangs. His catch moaned and struggled under Mot's grasp, but it could not be helped. The life pulsing through the human made Mot practically shiver with anticipation, and he made quick work of the creature and left the filthy corpse where he had found it. Such loathesome animals, he thought. Shaking his head both at what he had done and what humans continued to do, Mot left the scene of his feeding and continued his search for treasure.
Approved. 
