Seraph Dreyl

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Seraph Dreyl Empty Seraph Dreyl

Post by Kurai on Sat May 16, 2015 4:00 pm

|~* Basic Information *~|
Name: Seraph Dreyl
Nickname: Ser, Drey, “Leader”
Gender: Male
Age: 18
Birthday: November 7

|~* Physical Information *~|
Height: 6’2”
Weight: 160 lbs.
Physical Appearance:
Seraph, standing six feet and two inches in height, sports long black hair that he lets freely hang down the back of his head. There is a single stripe of red in his hair, and it’s located at the front-most, left side of his head. One of his eyes is a surreal blue (left eye), the other an intimidating yellow (right eye). While his mouth is closed, he seems like a normal person; however, when his teeth are shown, it’s made evident who his ancestor is. He has eight canines opposed to four for normal people; four where they normally are, with his first molars in both the top and bottom of his mouth being the secondary set. His expression is normally that of a strategic and calm mindset; however, sometimes he will grin lightly, and it looks intimidating as well as deceiving of what he may be thinking and actually feeling. On the right side of his neck, spanning up his cheek is a darkly-colored “birthmark” of sorts in the shape of a wyvern. The wyvern’s short neck wraps about his eye, with its head resting diagonally, pointed towards the lower portions of his nose. While the body of the wyvern begins at the side of his neck, the tail wraps around the back, the tip reaching directly above his heart. In terms of his physique, while he is not the strongest, he is still a bit defined and looks strong, a bit bulkier in muscularity and size than the average individual with broad shoulders to top it all off.

Seraph’s outfit may seem simple, but it isn’t. He wears a black shirt beneath a dark-red, perhaps maroon, closable hood (by zipper). Above this jacket, made of common fabric, is a leather jacket colored the darkest pitch of black, the collar trimmed off and hymned such that his birthmark is displayed. He wears a long pair of trousers, cargos specifically, colored black with a couple of small, blue flames at the end of the legs. A stainless-silver chain with tiny links is hooked to one of the side-loops of the trousers, the other end hooked to a belt loop on his right side. He sports a leather belt that is interchangeable between black and a dark shade of brown, usually flipped to the latter color to add variety to his palette. Around his neck is a darker chain than hooked to his trousers, a dragon’s head with emerald eyes the sole attachment to it. On his left ring finger rests a ring, one small yellow gem in it with a couple of flames etched into it. Last, but not least, he wears dark grey shoes with black laces, a couple of very dark-red ‘X’s’ reaching across the top (nearly black). Oh, and hidden in his pocket is a knife, black with a red blade sharpened enough that if he threw it, it would stick in a wall with ease.

Distinguishing Features:
- Right yellow eye
- Extra set of four canines
- Wyvern-shaped “birthmark” from neck to face

|~* Characterization *~|
Some believe that Seraph is a very kind-hearted individual in the dark exterior he emulates, while other passersby believe him to be a sort of demon in disguise; neither of these personas accurately represent him. While gentle to those that he genuinely cares for and would like to see in his future, he is also a very dignified and proud leader. He doesn’t stand for intolerable behavior, especially in challenges against his leadership, and would just as easily be provocative of a fight to establish dominance than settle the dilemma with a peaceful discussion. This could very well be due to his light lack of charisma and exemplary progress in throwing a slash or punch. Most of the time, Seraph does not convey his trust to anyone exempt those he is affectionate for; however, there have been exceptions, and still can be. He relies on his underlings to do most of the common dirty-work, and wouldn’t hesitate to destroy anything, or someone he could care less about, to accomplish something he’s aimed towards. He doesn’t mind the thought of injuring someone or brutally scaring them; rather, he enjoys being in fights.

He is usually intellectual as well, displaying great leadership and ability to settle disputes between his followers; he is also capable of negotiating deals with his enemies when necessary or formulating strategies against potential opponents. His sense of sight is heightened over all his other senses, especially in his right eye, giving him a great focus on details for some things, while causing him to lack it in others. While usually proactive, he does have his lazy moments; sometimes he may be found slacking off, doing whatever he pleases because he’s the leader, not the follower… Amazing to many is his ability to sleep in some of the most horrendous conditions, such as terrible weather or temperature or just sleeping atop or around objects such as metallic barrels or worse – standing up.


Seraph, born a happy and healthy child, spent most of his time under the affections of his mother, and not his father; you see, his father was a hard worker, and he spent most of his time in his occupancy. Seraph, the younger of two children, was fostered under the protection, yet rivalry, of his oldest brother, whom loved him, but also hated him in his own way. When he first got to school, while his brother would stick up for him some times, in others he would join the other kids in mocking his brother for the odd marking covering his neck and face… His life was mostly fine…

And then he discovered what he was…

When Seraph was approximately the age of 13, his mother and father were in temporary dispute; they had discovered, mostly by the tattoo on his neck and the oddities of his behavior, that he was the descendant of Ridley, a completely infamous leader of a nation meant to destroy and conquer from a long time ago… In the most un-harmful way, his father was afraid, while his mother cared not. She fought to keep the secret from Seraph, while his father, who spread the word to his sibling, began to show different behavior around him.

When he asked his mother about the odd behavior, not just of his father, but eventually his older brother as well, his mother figured it impossible to hold it from him any longer; she told him, plainly and sweetly, what he was.

“Listen to me, and listen carefully my child… Your father and I have quarreled for a bit of time now about whether to tell you this… While we came to agreement, it seems that, by his own means, he had caused your curiosity and pain; just look at the tears within your eyes this moment.”

Seraph, confused greatly, pleaded. He now wanted to know.

“Mom, please tell me… Why has father been acting so, so mean! Why has he been staying away from me, and why has brother as well? Why, when younger, was I picked on for the ‘tattoo’ that scars my neck and face? I know you want to protect me, but please, tell me!”

His mother, faced with the most difficult decision of her life, knew it impossible to hide it further; how would her son respond? Eventually he’d find out on his own… She carefully thought, for at least a few minutes, while she wiped his tears and began to unwrap a scarf from his neck that holstered the odd mark from his birth.

“As you’d wish my child, but after hearing this, you must be proud… I don’t want you to cry over this, nor do I want you to hide anything; you’re just as beautiful as you were before I knew this difficult truth. Promise me, and I will tell you…”

Seraph, desperate to know, gave his mother a simple nod… And so she began.

“You’ve heard of Ridley in your history courses, correct? The old rumors and tales from ancient time that he was a dictatorial leader, full of spite against humanity? Of the wars he caused? Well, my child… You are, in some twist of fate, his descendant. Look to that mark on your neck, or to your elongated hair. Your stature, your natural strength, and other signs prove it… While your father and brother would both see you as this, I see you as my son. If you’d be like him, so be it; if not, it makes no difference. I love you no less.”

It was after this moment that his mother would, perhaps, be in light regret of her words. She had no clue of what Seraph’s future would hold; however, it was of no importance. Now her son knew, and after an hour of embracing him with tears falling not from just his face, but her own, there was a rift between the family. His father and brother both left their home a couple of weeks afterward, claiming it to be for occupancy reasons; however, Seraph knew the truth.

His father couldn’t stand to see him any longer, nor his brother. The two tried to convince his mother to kick him from the house, but she had refused; they had even attempted once to kill him (not his mother)… They still yielded affection for him deep down, but on the outside, all they conveyed was fear, torture, and disappointment. And as such, Seraph came to love his mother but to despise his father and brother, two whom he shared blood with…

Upon turning fifteen years of age, two years after the disputing between his mother and father, his mother fell ill. After a day of confrontation against himself, he, unwillingly, contacted his brother and father for assistance. He was hoping that, despite how cruel they were towards him, that they would still care and help his mother… He could’ve been less in the right.

“I’m sorry to hear of your mother’s condition,” a note began. “But I’m sorry my son… I am no longer obligated to be by her side. She is no longer my wife; I am happier with a new wife, your stepmother.”

Seraph was hurt more than ever by his father’s words.

“Until death do us part… He swore those words; how could he break them,” he thought to himself. It wasn’t something for him to contemplate, however.

He began festering hatred against his father more than he ever had, as well as against his brother. He wouldn’t compile anything against his stepmother though; she was unaware of his mother and himself… How could he hold her to a crime that she was innocent of?

Unable to do anything at his current age, Seraph was capable only of caring for his mother through her time of necessity. Left hopeless and unable to pay any of the bills she yielded for medicinal care, he was afraid she would become deceased. And if she did, how would he care for himself? Who was going to guide him through the stages of his life when he needed it? Certainly not his father… And his fear was appropriate…

His mother passed away when he was sixteen…

Full of despair and his severe relent towards father and brother temporarily diminished, he desperately called upon the two. He prayed beyond anybody’s belief that they would come to his aid or to, at least, attend his mother’s funeral… Yet again, upon being requested, he received a final response. It was an unkind response…

“Listen to me well… I have no further ties to the woman; I was divorced with her shortly after I moved out. I did not fight to be away from her or you simply so you could continue to call upon me… I’m happy where I am, and so is your brother. Leave us be you disgrace; you couldn’t even get your own mother well… I know what you are, and I refuse to be a part of it; you’re nothing to me anymore; attend the funeral yourself.”

Seraph had read the response in hope, but had been left with nothing but hopelessness. Entirely shattered by his father’s response, any affection he had held for him or his sibling diminished, replaced by the temporary lack of emotion that crossed him, filling him with the will to annihilate the two… There was nothing for him in the other half of his family; he would never make the mistake of contacting them again… As he held the note in his hand, it was then he discovered his ability to manipulate fire, for the note turned to ash in his grasp.

Despite being caught off of his guard by it, Seraph began accepting his ancestry and the powers by which it began bringing. He understood how Ridley perhaps felt about destroying anything living if he could’ve. He thus began to train himself, his ability to hold fire eventually manipulating itself into the form of a dagger… Strangely enough, the color of the fire also changed to that of an awe-inspiring sapphire. He, after turning seventeen, began a gang.

It took him some time to compile together a group of individuals worthy of being around, especially given his kind of leadership and means of usually fighting for what he wanted; however, it eventually came to be. His aspirations to lead everything and to annihilate life may not have inspired much from his followers, but the fear he could instill and the amount of strength he bared were enough for them. He was inspirational, even if in the wrong ways.

With loyal fighters in hand, he faced his first challenge as the leader of a gang of twenty: fighting another gang. The battle was brutal, resulting in a few casualties on his side, but much more for the other gang. When faced with the choice to let the leader of the other one live or die, he chose the latter; in fact, his weapon of choice was the dagger he had trained and evolved his power into… Despite retaining a slice in his hand from the final stage of the fight, he made his voice heard.

“I shall lead them to where nobody else can, but it is their choice to follow or leave…”

His words were genuine, so even though he had killed their leader, those whom had been given the choice to leave or follow chose the latter; with their decisions, Seraph became the leader of a gang of one hundred. It left his heart a bit boggled in honesty, but on the outside, he seemed prideful and sufficed knowing his group had grown just from one fight… Shortly after the incident, he discovered that his hand had healed significantly faster than it normally would’ve. It was a new contemplation for him, but he eventually discovered the cause.

He was making himself a meal one day when he accidentally slit his finger with a cutting knife. It was definitely painful, but upon consuming the bit of meat he had cooked, the small cut was gone and a scar remained. Even more surprising was that, after finishing his entire meal, the scar itself was gone. He realized that it was another gift of his ancestry, and he began to train and experiment the power.

This, of course, led him to attempt something that scared even those who were most into following him; one day during a hunt in the forest for food, he bit, without any prior warning, into the neck of one of the deceased deer after cutting his finger again intentionally… Not to his surprise, given he had hypothesized, he discovered that his finger was healed. More than that, he found the taste of the deer exquisite despite it being uncooked…

Surely he was going to become ill; most of his gang believed it would be so; even those tasked with medicinal occupancies believed it; however, he surprised everybody when he didn’t. They found it odd, but began to believe that Seraph was practically a deity… Well, most of them did anyway; there were those who feared his health and odd abilities, and so they planned. They trained, and called upon his brother, discovering exactly who he was descendant of and what it could mean… It only made them train harder.

The day of his eighteenth birthday, a couple of years after his mother’s death, Seraph was at his mother’s grave. He had set a rose on her grave, realizing that other flowers had been left with a note. Upon picking them up, he read the note, seeing his father’s handwriting. Filled with rage, he disregarded the note’s contents, burning it alongside the flowers to dust with his dagger of fire that manifested. Shortly afterward, he heard footsteps… A battle ensued against him and the rebellious portion of his followers, leaving him with a scar on his arm and three more casualties around his mother’s grave.

With a few tears in his eyes for desecrating his mother’s grave, though not his fault, he retreated hastily. He hadn’t known his brother had been watching the entire scene… Followed back to his underground home, he was confronted a day after disbanding his gang, when everybody had already left the now old and abandoned building with torn walls and creeping wooden planks for a floor.

“I see what you’ve become,” his brother began, “and while I may not agree with it, I see the good it is… You lead a group of one hundred… Despite the fights you may have done or those you may have killed, you still led them; I’m sorry it turned out this way for you.”

Seraph moved from the small throne that had been constructed for him, the adult looking to his brother as he stepped forward. Upon taking observation of his right eye and expression, his brother actually began to weep. Seraph winced his eyes, not of anger, but of apology as he attempted to move by. His brother put a hand on his shoulder.

“I wish I could’ve done something… I wish father would’ve…”

Seraph’s eyes warmed momentarily, giving his brother forgiveness.

“I know. I forgive you for it; never him.”

Those words left his brother with more tears than could be counted, Seraph stepping from the room. It was likely that he would kill his father, and his brother knew it; however, the man had fled, and even his stepmother had no idea where he had gone.

“I’ll find you coward… I’ll make you pay with your life the tortures you set in mine. The pain you caused my mother and the suffering that my brother now deals with, you shall experience ten-fold… When I find you, you’ll wish you never left.”

|~* Ancestry, Ability, and Possessions *~|
Ancestor: Ridley
- Successors to Samus Aran; Seraph feels a natural hatred against them
- Other leaders of clans

Known Techniques:
1. Heightened Sense – Sight
Because of his ancestry, Seraph naturally has a heightened sense of sight. He can focus his sight on farther distances than others or on incredibly minute detail such as a hair or imperfect sliver in a piece of sliced meat.

2. Survival of the Fittest
Oddly enough, Seraph has the ability to heal a few of his injuries by the consumption of meat or other living creatures. This works solely for scars, scratches, or gashes; if his ligament is severed or his body fatally wounded, he cannot heal naturally. In terms of poison in his body, it will slow the effects, but cannot solely combat the poison to its end.

3. Fang of Fire
Despite the title of this ability, Seraph is capable of generating a small dagger, or knife, of fire. Dependent on how he manages his energy, usually this will yield no side impacts; however, if it were to be generated or too long or he exhausts himself, he may temporarily lose the ability to do so. The color of the flames crafting the dagger (or knife) are usually black or sapphire blue.

Owned Weapons:
- 8x Canines in his mouth
- 1x Knife in his trousers’ pocket, sheath black with a red blade
- 1x Dagger generated by fire (ability)


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Seraph Dreyl Empty Re: Seraph Dreyl

Post by Avaritia on Sat May 16, 2015 4:17 pm

Approved unless anyone else says otherwise o3o

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