|Name: Abrecan Shaul
Rank: Midnight Lord/Necromancer
Family: Parents-Lord and Lady Midnight, deceased; Grandmother-Mahrii
Skin: Pale white
Hair: Dark, inky black, straight and neat, to ears
Eyes: Deep blue
Abilities: Like every other member of the Shaul family, Abrecan is a very skilled necromancer. In fact, his entire castle is staffed by his undead servants-in actuality, he and his grandmother are the only living beings in the castle. His most frequent method of spell-casting is simply re-animating the dead, using an incantation and a small animal sacrifice, but his abilities are far more widespread than that. He is also adept in preserving the dead, causing decay, illness, paralyzation, or poison in the living, and casting runes to guard against the efforts of other necromancers, as well as haruspicy (entrail reading).
Appearance: Abrecan is fairly tall at over six feet, but he is very thin, almost unhealthily so. His skin is pale white, which makes him look iller than he really is. He has short, very straight and neatly combed black hair and the deep, midnight blue eyes which run in his family. He could be considered very handsome, were it not for the deep scars that mar his face; he has a series of scars just above and below his mouth and eyes, where his mouth and eyelids were sewn shut. He dresses in very fine, expensive clothes, mostly black or dark colors, and sometimes wears a dark veil or head covering over his face when around other people.
Personality: Very calm and quiet, Abrecan is more often shut off alone in his castle than seen among other people. He lives alone, save his grandmother and his undead servants, and generally prefers the company of the undead over that of the living. He is a skilled necromancer-a trait that runs in his family-and this, as well as his heavily scarred face, causes most people to fear him or even label him evil. He is far too used to this sort of behavior for it to bother him anymore, so he spends most of his time locked up in his rooms and rarely leaves the castle. He's intelligent and quite clever, enjoying a good challenge.
Past: Abrecan, scion of the Shaul family, is a prince of sorts, and rules a series of small islands, known as the Midnight Isles, off the coast of the main continent. He is technically held accountable to the King of Marlia-Neura, the nation on the main continent, but he is essentially left on his own to do what he pleases and is ignored by the government. His family has been in power for several generations, but they are all dead now except for Abrecan and his grandmother. The Shaul family are well-known for the use of Dark Magic and especially necromancy and are often regarded with fear.
When he was a young child, he was stricken with a very strong, often fatal disease. After several weeks of burning fever and delirium, he fell into a deep coma. His family, thinking he was dead, began to prepare the body for burial. These customs include sewing the eyes and mouth shut before sealing the body in a stone grave surrounded by magic runes to guard against necromancy. Abrecan woke up before they could bury him alive-but not until after they had sewn his eyes and mouth shut.
He recovered physically, though the scars would be permanent. However, the illness completely destroyed his ability to work any kind of magic other than necromancy. His parents died not very long after that, leaving him with only his aging grandmother, who was never quite the same after his near burial. She has grown steadily more senile over the years; she spends her days catatonic in bed and wanders the hallways aimlessly at night.
Sponsors: Male White-Black Kirin Dragon, Neppyo
Female Grey-Purple Thestral, Aridath
Male Black-Brown Dead Pet, Lup'os
Female Silver-Black Styx Beast, Vedea Viitor
Female Black-Blue Lethe Beast, Shada
Apprentice: Gawyn Dawey
|There are certain things one should and should not do when one is a well-known necromancer at a society ball hosted by one's king. And, necromancer or no, dressing in many layers of black with cloaks and face veils is something one should not do when one wishes to avoid drawing attention to oneself. Aside from the stares, the heavy robes and many layers of clothing can cause one to overheat.
The stares and whispers follow in his wake, but he ignores them. He is far too used to the harsh rumors and lies people people exchange behind his back, and he knows they would only get worse if he dared to show his face.
The fine clothes hang heavily on his thin frame, and the other guests give him a wide berth as he makes his way around the corner of the ballroom. He'd like to stay hidden and unnoticed, but that is, of course, impossible. After all, he is the Midnight Lord, the scion of the Shaul family, and the infamous Necromancer. He grinds his heel into the floor sourly.
He lifts his head as he notices someone approach, and behind the veil upon his face, he blinks in surprise. Marlia-Neura's king approaches him, of all people. He starts to clear his face of surprise-but then realizes that it doesn't matter underneath his hood and clothes. The entire point was that no one would have to look at his face. Instead, he schools his voice into a bored droll befitting his reputation. "My liege?"
The king forces an obviously fake smile on his face which he politely ignores. "Lord Shaul, what a surpise to see you." Not really, he was invited, after all. But then, he rarely comes to public outings, unless he is all but forced to, so perhaps it is a surprise.
He answers politely and noncommittally. "Something compelled me to leave my castle and come here tonight, sire." Boredom, for the most part, though he doesn't say such things aloud. Liches are usually braindead and don't make good conversation companions.
The king smiles inanely. "I understand you've had many visits lately. From...old friends, perhaps?"
He stares blankly, unsure what the king is talking about now. "Y-Yes." He says at last. May as well act as though he has a clue what's going on. Bands of rebels, most of them workers of dark magic or other such unsavory professions have come by his castle lately, begging for shelter, aid, and occasionally, alliances. Could they be who the King is referring to?
The King quickly begins to loose interest in him. He cannot say he is not glad.
The old man's eyes move to a couple on the dance floor, and he smiles again, this time wider and truer than any he had ever received. Bored, he follows the old man's gaze. A young woman with red-gold hair dances with an older man. He can easily see that the woman-more of a girl, really, probably not yet even twenty-looks thoroughly disgusted with her talkactive partner. It is obvious, to him at least, that she is not happy being there. The song ends, and she breaks away.
He stands silently, unobserved for now, as she strides over to the king, who greets her warmly.
"Alazne, dearest, you are enjoying yourself, I hope?" The old king asks, taking her hands in his.
He can see the princess's smile is strained, and he interjects sarcastically, "I'm sure the lady is having a wonderful time." The sarcasm seems to have gone over the heads of his companions-just as well, he muses.
The princess turns at the sound of his voice, and for the first time, he gets a good look at her. The fact that she is staring at him, for once, does not bother him in the slightest. Her tall and slender body is covered in an extravagant green gown that does full justice to her deep brown eyes and the tightly coiled curls of red-gold hair which hang around her face and neck. For a moment, he is too captivated by her beauty to notice anything else. Such as the fact that she is staring at him with a mixture of fear and morbid curiosity.
The king's voice cuts through the loaded silence and breaks the mood. "Ah-yes-Alazne. This is the Duke of the Midnight Isles, Lord Shaul. Lord Midnight, my youngest daughter, Alazne."
The king is clearly discomforted, but Lord Shaul ignores it, and instead chooses to move his veil aside for a moment to take her hand and kiss it. "I am enchanted, Lady Alazne." And he is, but he sees the discreet motion as she wipes her hand against her gown, as though to rid herself of his touch, and his eyes narrow to slits, though he gives no other outward sign.
He bids them good day curtly, striding away as the crowd instictively moves apart around him. Of course, what else was he to expect? He is the infamous Necromancer, and inspires fear in everyone who sees him. That fact has never bothered him before.
|To be continued...|