@Shizuochan

Aero Blue

he hears his master's voice
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Posting Speed
  1. One post per week
Online Availability
5-11 EST weekdays, anytime weekends.
Writing Levels
  1. Give-No-Fucks
  2. Adept
  3. Advanced
  4. Douche
  5. Adaptable
Preferred Character Gender
  1. Primarily Prefer Female
Genres
Superhero, urban fantasy, space opera, crime thriller, supernatural
Aarcon


Consul of Lyf
"Burn me alive upon the grandest pyre known to time and space."



GENERAL

Name: Aarcon Iasra Zulat
Pronunciation: Ar-Kan e-az-rah Zu-lat
Nickname: Arc
Titles: Consul
Species: Elf
Race: Lecyri
Date of Birth: Winter (Month 9), AR. 998.
Zodiac: The Horned Demon
Age: 308
Place of Birth: Lyf, Lecara

Storyline/Plot: Roseblood

"The dust in the wind: specks of millennia past screaming – begging – to be remembered."



APPEARANCE

Eye Color: Hazel, although his ailed left eye is glazed white.
Hair Color: Wispy White
Hair Style/Length: Mid-back, straight
Height: 7’0”
Weight: 220lbs.
Body Type: Broad-framed, but slender.
Body Modifications/Accessories: N/A

Written Appearance:
Handsome enough given his years, a feline-esque countenance weathered by time and giving the impression of an earthly wisdom. Impressively self-aware of his donned expressions, Aarcon finds himself routinely alternating between visages of reserved wisdom and endearing cordiality.

A towering individual even by Lecyrian standards, Aarcon’s tall form is an advantage in establishing social presence, but an incredible burden to carry for over three hundred years. A specially commissioned back-brace forcibly stalls the curses of hunching and slouching, keeping Aarcon’s posture rigidly – and painfully - straight.

In contrast to many Lecyrians and by conscious decision, Aarcon’s styling of hair is more in line with other Elven races. His formerly proud beard has been shaved cleanly, as it had begun to grow faint and wispy, while his cowl of hair is kept long, but styled in a manner more akin to a Maiden than the braids of a bestial race.

While many aspects of his appearance are carefully cultivated to subvert stereotypes of his people, Aarcon’s claw-like nails remain untouched, unaltered. This is also a calculated decision; while he’s done much to assimilate aesthetically with nobility, the claws are meant to indicate a steel beneath his formal manner.

PERSONALITY

Personality Traits:
✥ Weary | Perhaps best defined by his sense of existential ennui, Aarcon finds the normal course of his life to be tedious. Accordingly, will take measures to change this.
✥ Intrepid | Will perform the audacious and outrageous to pluck himself out of his tedium. The scale of the endeavor, the risk attached, the consequences; these are all irrelevant.
✥ Logician | Although his intrepid ambitions carry him into the realms of the irrational, Aarcon has a great capacity for logic and debating, a skilled master of rhetoric.
✥ Unfettered | Aarcon understands the normal operative behaviors of various societies – not just his own, thanks to his occupation – but views them as secondary to his own desperate pursuits.

Strengths:
The ability to analyze situations from a variety of opposing perspectives.
The willingness to operate unbound by morality or reason.
A talent for presenting outlandish ideas in appealing morsels.

Weaknesses:
A tendency to succumb to lethargy, intense bouts of anxious depression.
While his own willingness to act irrationally is sometimes to his benefit, is inevitably blindsided when another party acts contrary to expected logic.
Will oft over-commit to unlikely endeavors.

Quirks:
The only thing that terrifies him as much as earthly insignificance is the prospect of dancing.

MBPT: ENTP

D&D Alignment: Chaotic Neutral


DETAILS

Inventory:
- Various treatises, most pertaining to teachings of logic and rhetoric.
- A back-brace to force rigid uprightness.
- A strangely large medley of quills.
- A seal representing his status as Lyf’s Consul, similar in practice to the crest of the nobles.

Occupation: Consul, Diplomat promoting the interests of Lecara Territory, primarily Lyf.

Education: Informal, though stringent, instruction on workings of politics, diplomacy and rhetoric, the quality of which rose as the Lecara territory elves became more versed in such matters. Centuries of expertise.

Character Arcs/Plots: A constant quest of desperation to cement his place in the world by being the instigator or catalyst of some pinnacle moment in history. His efforts to do so – all caused by some drastic existential crisis and need for grand validation – may or may not prove troublesome to the stability of the realm.

The idea of pulling the Rughena tribes, insular Lecyri foreign to him, into a more global context (likely to be in a less than harmonious manner) appeals greatly to Aarcon.



RELATIONS

Social
  • Inundata Coreal Lesolis; Former Instructor of Logics, Elven
  • Nindrol Inaren; Former Instructor of Foreign Culture, Elven
  • Ruven Ralow; Bodyguard/Hairstylist, Human
  • Theodemar Luqirelle; Understudy, Elven
*Listed elves are Lecyri.

Familial
  • Kuornos Zulat; Father
  • Kenia Dara Zulat; Mother


ARMAMENTS

Magic Tier(s): Low, Middling

Attuned Element(s): Earth, Theurgy

Fleuntia: Solis

Main Weapon: Innate strength coupled with the typical razor-nails of the Lecyri. Far from a trained combatant, Aarcon’s “edge” in battle is a frenetic willingness to throw his size around.

Secondary Weapon: Protocol and common sense dictate that Aarcon carries a weapon on excursions. He favors a wooden bludgeon. Although he has no particular training in its usage, the weapon is… thankfully self-explanatory.

HISTORY

Born on a cold, melancholic Winter night, Aarcon’s youth was nonetheless defined by warmth of Lyf’s hustle and bustle, a period of social growth and impressive commerce. Young Aarcon, even before he could utter a single word, or muster movement on his own two legs, understood inherently the beauty in all of it; members of all races peddling their wares, the jovial bedlam of a burgeoning society.

It was a Life in Freneticism, and it was perfect.

Known as a clever (sometimes overly so) child, Aarcon was a favorite of his instructors, impressing them with both mischievous wit and a stalwart studious nature. Extroverted, and a confident orator with a knack for wordplay, he was pushed towards literary endeavors, both as an expression of artistry and for the practicable goal of communication.

The latter focus appealed to Aarcon, as he had heard tales of the diplomats that came and went. Sometimes they would rave of glorious processions, other times they would whisper in hushed tones of ominous signs of conflict. In both cases, Aarcon was magnetized; to see the world, to experience it in all its wonder and horror, would be ever so lovely.

For a while, this was true.

From Kingsport to Arora, to the Skyport of Caershire, it was all beautiful. To his credit, Aarcon was an incredibly promising Emissary, serving as understudy and assistant to the Consul that forged the lucrative trading agreement between Lyf and Queensport. As the decades past, Aarcon would become a full-fledged Consul in his own right, deftly positioning Lyf to usurp other entities of their spot in upcoming trade treaties, shooting down tariffs that would negatively impact Lyf’s economy.

So much flowered and meaningless rhetoric.

So many formal dinners being fed wondrous food and masked cordiality.

So much tedious paperwork.

Suddenly Kingsport and Arora weren’t quite so lovely. And the Skyport of Caershire wasn’t quite so impressive.

It was a Life in Stasis, and it was horrifying.


WRITING SAMPLE

As far as the scholarly pursuit of diplomacy was concerned, there were academic debates as to the significance of festive events, of galas. There were questions posed, for example, of where they stood in relation to what was traditionally regarded as the core of diplomacy; of negotiation, of terms, of verbal riposte and counter-riposte. When Aarcon Iasra Zulat, born in a period of uplifting for his ilk, studied the art of diplomacy, it was the words and content that was held paramount above all else.

Advocates belonging to opposed schools of thought rose amongst the ascendants of Lecyrian diplomacy, stating that the spectacle often trumped the negotiations and agreements, the inflection of one’s rhetoric taking precedence over the meaning of one’s words, that the beauty of the ball transcended the earnestness of the pact. When he was young, and far removed from his stature as a well-regarded Consul, scholarly debates such as these had given him some measure of dread.

Then, sadly, it was simply because Aarcon could not dance to absolve himself from oblivion.

The Lecyrian had to admit, there was merriment and joy to be found in events like these, however fleeting. He sometimes found solace in remembering confetti, floating in permanence thanks to some Theurgist. Or perhaps some particularly bored Air Elementals. He remembered decades ago, how Lady Areila danced, and how they marvelled at her grace, the ease in which she moved her frame, a whirling dervish of cloth. She had earned herself great presence and renown that day, and tales were told of how marvelous her dress was, that beautiful dress colored…

… Aarcon found that he could not remember what color it had been. A pity.

For the moment, however, the atmosphere was acceptable. He had made himself an observer, a difficult task given his large stature. He watched the Lords and Ladies as they postured, bodies contorted by the tension of pretense even in celebration. Some, granted, were well and truly taken by the festivities. But the ones Aarcon cared for were in full collection of their facilities, eminently conscious of their body language.

Words pierced through the mire of thoughtfulness and sent cold chills stabbing through the Lecyrian's vertebrae.

“Ah, Consul Aarcon Iasra Zulat of Lyf! Would you care to…”

This was frightening, for almost three hundred years later, Aarcon had still not learned how to dance.