Leon scapel

[Leon Scapel]

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[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, background-color: #000000; width: 350px; border-left: 1px solid white; padding: 15 5 15 5px;] [STYLE=text-align: right; color: #8e8f98; font-family: georgia; font-size: 27px; font-style: italic; margin-bottom: -22px; padding-right: 10px;]Leon Scapel[/style] [STYLE=width: 325px; background-color: #ffffff; padding: 5px; text-align: left; font-family: arial; font-size: 10px;]nickname Leo (friend cases only) age Twenty-Eight gender Male sexuality Heterosexual position Soldier alliance Dark power Shade Puppetry - He is able to manipulate the shadows provided in his surroundings into distorted manifestations, ranging from creatures, to that of bi-pedal like entities. Affected by the time of day, unless in thick shadows via Dungeon or Forest, he is remotely defenseless other than the two silver daggers that he keeps with him at all times, during the peak of Sun. However, upon Nightfall and if the Moon is present (pitch black will get him nowhere), these shades become less translucent, and more solid, resembling that of their power. The thicker the shadow he pulls from, the more solid the puppetry may appear, thus leading physical harm probable. play by Steve Leonard, Darren Shan's Cirque Du Freak [/style] [STYLE=text-align: right; color: #8e8f98; font-family: georgia; font-size: 27px; font-style: italic; margin-bottom: -22px; padding-right: 10px;]personal[/style] [STYLE=width: 325px; background-color: #ffffff; padding: 5px; text-align: left; font-family: arial; font-size: 10px;]personality Tyrant A heated kettle and ready to burn, Leon is not one to take orders so kindly. A tyrant of himself, it seems the only one he willingly allows to push him around, is that of the Dark Elf King. He respects Cyrus in an indubitable amount, however, outside the amber coats of the King, he is his own leader. While it is hardly intentional, it is just seems to be just a born trait that he'll look down upon anyone else that dares steps forth to his feet. Stubborn On par with his sense of self-loathing, he is also well-known for being that of thick-headed, and lacking of ability to sidetrack. When his mind is set, rather it risks his life or not, he will not see the end until he concludes it. This is questioned to be rather a down-feat, or an up-feat when given orders by Cyrus, Manipulative Tongue stained with venom and silent lies, it is important to chose your words wisely around this individual. A knack for toying with words, he will arrange them within seconds to put the opposing individual at fault. Taking something as simple as a plea for help, moments later you will notice that you just stepped forth into a compromise that risked your own life. The Elf is also nifty in the means of others guilty conscious. Hostile Never backing down from a fight, though the hilarity of it is- Leon is always looking. Rather it be his sickening sense of humor, or his lively sarcasm, the Dark Elf favors the need of battle. More often from boredom than reason, unless it be that of an interesting conversation he dare not interrupt, he will not hesitate to begin an intimidation process by summoning some horrid creatures within the debts of the Shadows. It narrows down to the opponent of rather or not they act calmly or aggressive, rather or not Leon flicks his wrist in the first attack. appearance While most Dark Elf once had a purity to them, before conversion from that of the scroll Cyrus wields, Leon had always been a bit more in tune with his color. Lanky limbs standing at a traditional six foot, four inches, every centimeter had been dabbed with a mocking peach skin, which only grew over the years after finding out of the Dark Elve's existence, and that of their King, to whom he sought out, immediately. In unison, narrow, crimson-lit orbs are locked away at the crevasse of his eye sockets, matching the frame of the distinguished cheek bones that stood out fairly masculine. Locks of silver-like gray sit on top of the Elf's skull, jagged lengths stretching down to the back of his neck. And from each side, a genetic, pokes out a carefully curved earlobe. Weighing a fair one eighty, Leon is particularly slim compared to the average BMI. This partially has to do with his fighting techniques, and that of his childhood in which heavily relied on light footing. A sculpted chest that shows small signs of tone, he does not rely on the physical appearance of any packing, verses that of simply staying in shape. Being that of a ranged fighter along side his Shade Puppet(s) and Beast, the swift movements of his arms that keep him in tact are easily noticeable, a thick coat of muscle pinpointed at his biceps. Though, being no good at melee combat and his first several contacts with that of the Light Elf cavalries, Leon is highly aware of battle scars, already fallen witness to three of numerous to come. Two scars from healed gashes by a Beast are rarely visible across his back, leaning towards his left hip, while a nick of a pike has made a permanent warning against his right knee, to the left side. When off duty, Leon can be found in the most casual a local tailor can provide, often colors of murky greens and browns. He is not at all picky, other than the needs of a belt at all times with weaponry locks attached, to where he keeps his pair of silver daggers. As for formal, he does own a set of ebony-shined slips, a pair of blacken slacks, with a white button-up enclosed by that of a perfectionist tailored suit, decored in black and steep reds. It even involves a red bow tie. On the battlefield, the Dark Elf favors that of the long-range combat, and thus encloses himself in more leather, than steel plating. From toe to knee-high, his leather leggings shine in a coat of steel that is slabbed on the frontier, lined with a dash of gold that trials upward to the knee. From there, the under-garment leather slithers out from a bit past the leggings rim, and all the way up to the Elf's waist, forming a pair of breeches, with an ebony-colored weaponry belt. Topping this, his torso is wrapped in that of a leather jerkin, decorated in an assortment of strings and carefully placed chainmail. Upon his shoulders are a pair of thinly cut steel guards, and downward again, resides a pair of cotton gauntlets. history Find one person to say that their childhood was rainbows and daisy's, and you have the likelihood of finding such a heart-warming story possibly... .0001 out of a million. Sadly, this story is not of that percentage. This abundance of life started in the heart of the Light City, a mere child peasant of that of the Town, and not to mention- a trouble maker. No one can truly compliment or even understand the details of what happens before the age of five, as basic motor skills such as crawling, walking, talking, learning, all of these were nothing but common sense if you expected to live outside the womb. However, this particular bundle of mischief begins two years later, putting Leon Scapel at the age of seven when things came crashing down. It was a little known fact that Royalty got you anywhere and everywhere, and the Scapel family was everything but. Growing up without a father, the standard income in the Town for a woman taking care of two children was barely enough to survive. Abuse was a fact known coming, and this was not intentionally meant for that of Leon, but of his elder brother, Krurn. A few years older than he, it was Krurn's responsibility to take care of the seven year old in holding, while their mother stayed at the small bakery she kept shop. Starving herself over a full oven, and being that of a single female, the verbal and mental abuse portrayed by that of scum was over whelming. Heaven forbid if Leon was to get in trouble anywhere, rather it be at teachings or at home, Krurn would hear a mouth load of how ungrateful, how useless, and just how pathetic his existence was, compared to his mother. How such a woman was breaking her back to please her children, it was all too easily convinced that Krurn was the man of the house, and constantly the one at fault. However, it remained a mystery for exactly why that was. Never had Leon seen any other male figure in his life other than Krurn, and whenever the childish curiosity got the best of him, Krurn would reply cluelessly, as their mother would simply scowl and turn the other cheek. And ever since, she had been a cold, bitter woman. That's why it was not surprising that after taking care of the younger sibling for seven years (Krurn now the age of 18, Leon 15), that a pattern began to take place. Any wrong action, even something as slight as a stray look, would send Krurn aflame. Forcing stricter rules upon his younger while their mother was absent, and even that of physical stains- had Leon done anything so small to insult or offend his eldest, it would be countered by a quick smack to the face, and loud chanting of the same speech his mother gave the other in the past. But Mithos knew where this was going, and he didn't want to stay long before the pipe would burst between a fueling flare between his mother and brother. Without a father, a stray mother, and now that of a living image of hate, this did not terrify the nearing-teen, no. This influenced him dearly to break the pattern, and make a complete turn for the worse. It all began with an experiment- a simple, sly remark to his brother while walking back home one day from schooling. Strolling that of the occupied Town walkways, Krurn had mentioned something of when they got back to the house, to clean up. No. That's all he had to say, and he did. With not a regret in the world, and the biggest smile, Leon defied his morphed sibling, and he knew what was going to happen next. Flare burning in the violet eyes of his eldest, it was in mid-smack that Leon took a hold of Krurn's arm, countering any further damage he expected to come out of the argument. This only frustrated the Elf more, using his opposing arm to throw a fair punch into the child's left cheek, sending him to the ground in front of other peasants, who cautiously began to surround the siblings. Staring from the ground, the only thing the silver-maned Elf could do at this point was laugh. Tossing his head back in a eerie cackle, he spoke not a word to his brother or anyone else around him. Simply, laughed. Confused, and further angered, Krurn scattered to his brother, demanding that he stop and come along. But instead, Leon pulled back, retaining his cackles as he smirked towards the elder, stating, "You're nothing but Mother's fool. A replica in the works of the perfectionist sculpting. Enjoy this misery dear brother, as I am not staying for the ride." An thus Leon Scapel was on the horizon, taking refugee out at the foothills of the Backbone Mountains. Coming back and forth from the Light City Town Market with supplies and a storage of cotton and wheat to make furnishings to live off of, it was during these years that he practiced with his Elemental Power, eagerly awaiting nightfall to see what more he could create with the images in his head, and the shadows provided. Hunting for food became second nature, and acknowledging others of existence was something he learned to avoid with ease. He was no theft, but silent footing was amongst his specialty. Three more years aged into his tanned skin, and word of the King's murder spread across Gira like a wildfire. This news stunned Leon when he returned one morning before to retrieve more of a supplies of food from the markets, but it also captured his interest almost instantly. That of Royal Blood, staining their own reputation? This was far beyond what a simple peasant in the likes of the Scapel History could amount to. And to some aspect, he envied it. The reputation, the power, all of this that came with being born into the right ranks. The ability to start a war. It was two years of preparation and silence amongst the commodores before Leon was finally able to meet Cyrus in person, the one they called the Dark Elf King. Finding the twin in battle of some of his Light Brother soldiers near the Mountains, this is where the warlock took his chance, unexpectedly hopping into battle with the moonlight above, and taking advantage of the Mountain's silhouette. As the battle began to cool, and victory became stable, the silver-maned Elf then took the opportunity to introduce himself properly, entrusting the Dark Elf King with every ounce of loyalty he could provide. It hit Leon as irony as time passed along the King's side in which he found the male was three years younger than him, putting him at his brother's footsteps in being a three-year leisure elder, but that did not stop him in following orders as delivered. Regardless, to the very least, he was serving a purpose, and was not any example of ungrateful, useless, nor pathetic. [/style] [STYLE=text-align: right; color: #8e8f98; font-family: georgia; font-size: 27px; font-style: italic; margin-bottom: -22px; padding-right: 10px;]roleplayer[/style] [STYLE=width: 325px; background-color: #ffffff; padding: 5px; text-align: left; font-family: arial; font-size: 10px;]alias Jessie other characters N/A [/style]

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