Post by zedekiah on Dec 21, 2011 12:07:12 GMT -5
zedekiah eli auerbach.
twenty ,, warlock ,, homosexual ,, anti-social; quiet, a recluse ,, aaron bruckner
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CHARACTER'S TITLE;;
He would be what people would call a witch; he prefers to term wizard or warlock, but he begrudgingly accepts that the word is unisex and can be applied to both genders. He prides himself on knowing many areas of magic, but illusionary magic is his speciality. He also considers himself quite the accomplished apothecary, though his potions are often rancid and revolting in taste. If it matters, Zedekiah has a magic familiar, a sort of animal companion that he is very close to, his caracal Vriska. It hard getting away ith keeping her in a 12x12 apartment, but he wouldn't seperate her for the world.
THE BASICS;;
His name is Zedekiah Eli Auerbach, and well, he has no shame in that. it shows off his rich ancestry; tracing back to the golden sands of israel to present day Germany, the men of the family proud and powerful magic-makers and dabblers in Kabbalah. His accent sounds almost indistiguishable to these foolish americans, but the slightest hebrew twinge is present in his German, and that carries on with the German present in his English. He was born in East Germany in the cold winter months, where times were harsh for his family, on December 15th, 1991. Occupation-wise, he hasn't exactly reached his goal yet. Aspiring rulers of the cosmos cannot simply go out and recieve an investment from their local bank, as it turns out. Until then, he works as a chef at a local restaurant, quite the nice place, actually. He always found cooking an admirable art almost like magic. Sometimes he even slips in a little extra 'spice' for the customers to enjoy.
APPEARANCE;;
Ah, his looks. One of his favorite things about himself, and he's sure many others would agree. His piercing blue eyes and locks of sleek gold; Full pink lips and a sharp-angled tanned flesh. He finds it challenging to find a single flaw about him, from his lean-muscled almost cat-like physique and smooth, nearly flawless skin. It's mostly genetics. The men of his family are always stunning in their prime, and he isn't exactly looking forward to aging if his father's any example to go by. His style is dress nice and never have a day where you look bad. Many hours are spent each morning just making sure he is in tip-top physical condition, even if he doesn't plan on speaking to a single person there. All-in-all, he's pretty vain, and loves to admire his own looks. Fashion-wise, he likes to stay with new trends and try his own. He wouldn't ever be caught in a hoodie or something so simple like that, and some people can catch him in full-on suits just to browse through market stores.
PERSONALITY;;
Most people make the mistake of assuming that because Zedekiah doesn't speak much, that he is some sort of introvert with an inferiority complex. That he's shy, genuinely fearfil of other people and any form of contact with intelligent life simply because he has always been a bit more bookish than other people. Nothing could be the truth, as he claims (though his social skills are a bit lackluster). The truth is, he probably simply doesn't like you. Long before he actually meets someone, his piercing vibrant blues scan over them, gathering as much information as possible, picking at their weak points and keeping it in the back of his head at all times. It's hard to really talk to the boy as he seems to have his nose in the air at all time, and a look of disgust in the form of a displeased scowl upon his full, pink lips.
Zedekiah, like many supernaturals, has a superiority complex regarding the nature of his being. He believes that witches, warlocks, wizards, what-have-you, should be held above the rest. He believes that all should bend at the will of their all-powerful fingers, and if they need a king, he would be happy to take the position. He couldn't think of anyone else quite as worthy as himself. This is where his narcissism comes in. Once he's narrowed down the best by species and thus disregarded anyone else, it makes it easier for him to rise to the top of his own kind and truly be considered the most powerful creature upon this pathetic little blue dot. He considers himself very smart, taking time to learn the different areas of math, science and literature. Even as a magician, he's like to blend logic within his spells, which has helped them not go so wrong. He is very arrogant and unlikely to seek advice from others, believing nobody as smart as him. As well as this, he is quite prone to envy.
Romantically, he isn't so inclined to believe in silly-things like soulmates, and definately not marriage. Not a love-based marriage, but he's married many women when he thought it would benefit him. Usually involving some form of magic ring that would make their flesh melt off or something hilarious like that. But he wouldn't dare ever touch them. His opinion on woman isn't the highest, and his opinion on men is just a bit higher but not by much. He prefers testosterone to estrogen. He'd rather have a nice lean-muscled human boy over the ditzy little blonde with large breasts and a finger twirling strands of hair any day.
HISTORY;;
please include childhood, life changing moments, family (at least names of them.) three paragraphs minimum.
Zedekiah was born into near-poverty. His father and his grandfather and all the generations still-living (either from simple longevity or various death-cheating spells) had long-lived within a small shanty made of wood and steel, after the war. No amount of magic could fix their problems, not without damaging the already shaky German economy, or even as it got better it would have simply been too suspicious. The shack was atop a snowy hill overlooking Frankfurt. They said that the faeries, the trolls danced about at night during the summer and that the magic here was abundant. They claimed that this is what kept Zedekiah alive in the months to come. With little to no women, as they had deemed Zed's mother unimportant in anything more than giving birth and made no attempt to heal her as she died during childbirth. She was irrelevant in this entire thing, and would not be missed. They wanted a boy, and they had it. His father smiled, knowing he would not have to add another small skeleton under the cold mud of their garden around back, long killed by the terrible wisps and gusts of winter's touch.
Growing up, his father knew Zedekiah was a prodigy, a genius, and he cultivated this mind. He did not nurture his body and did not nurture his soul, instead shoving the young boy's nose into the cool blanket of dog-eared science books. He spent hours just reading and being taught by barking pinch-faced relatives in deeply austere tones of voice. Their words, lessons spliced in with belittling and worrying remarks regarding many things (up to and including his intelligence, appearance and personality) almost hurt as bad as the firm open-palm slap that greeted his smooth skin each day. He noticed more ladies popping in and out, and with that his brothers and cousins moved in. Zedekiah was no longer alone; He had older brothers before, of course, but none of much relevance and none that were spoken about in favorable terms by his uncles. But now, there was a challenge. So the child studied harder.
His efforts proved to be worth the effort. His father and his elders all agreed that he was the smartest and most accomplished magician of his group, and with a white-toothed smile he watched as the weakest of his relatives seemed to disappear all the sudden. Their fathers were unapologetic even as their own cold steel shovel patted down the dirt over crudely-made coffins. A greater thing he realized; Zedekiah had gotten a chance to live, and he had earned it. His still beating heart was proof of that. Thus, a sense of morbid pride filled the boy, and he became even more absorbed in his studies. It became a rare site to see him poke his head out of his room.
Physically, mentally, spiritually; He is now chiseled down, and he has escaped the place that he was once locked into. The birth of his ambitions, the home with his father and his father's father, but he needed to leave as he new this is where his dreams would die. His ears had heard great words about New Orleans, that it was some sort of magical epicenter of chaos and the occult. He is now to face the real world, and take what he wants. If he can survive the roughness of this concrete jungle, that is.
BEHIND THE CHARACTER;;
hey, so i'm harry. i've been roleplaying for six years maybe? now. as well as this character, i also play none yet sorryy. you can reach me by pm is fine if you need me for anything. i found NEW ORLEANS HEAT by / on / from caution 2.0 and i'm pretty glad i did. here's an example of mah skillz. c:
White hair was pushed in gentle wisps against a pale forehead and scattered about stormcloud eyes as Ozias zipped through the upper layers of the atmosphere, ust low enough to see the sharp peaks of evergreens and rocky faces of mountain tops, rearing their heads above the sea of endless mist. From above, this truly was a beautiful place, and it was hardly suprising that is was such a land of mystique and fantastical going-ons as it was. There was an odd sensation of anxiety and nostalgia swelling within his chest, seemingly belched out by his stomach which felt like it was full of birds (or whatever metaphor humans had come to use for that tingly-sort of feeling within your lower gut). His muscles upon his slender waist and navel tensed and squeezed. "Hopefully I'm still welcome to these sorts of things.", he said to himself, though his own voice was only faintly audible to himself over the roar of the upper breezes. Not that there was anyone else to hear him speak to himself.
It was a familiar sight, as the marbled black stones embedded into the smooth sides of the large monolith peaked out, great structures with large windows showing much of the faeries simply gazing on or engaging in various games, some more adult-oriented than others. As he neared towards it, the clouds began to disperse to show great crowds of people at it's entrance, faery and any other sort of supernatural present. Perhaps even a few humans, but he couldn't rightfully say, not from this height. As he slowed and his weight came bakc to him, now offering the air little resistance as he drifted back down to the tough earthy bonds that plagued those who were not lucky enough to be faeries or birds of some kind. He felt juneasy for a second; Would anyone recognize him, and would the other faeries be able to see through his glamour? What could they possibly think about him? More importantly, did anyone miss him, or were they awaiting his arrival on the ground with a guillotine close by their side? Gulping, he figured this was really the only way to find out. He hadn't exactly been so formal about his transition from the chosen darkness of his kind to a more neutral, almost good side. Mind you, he wasn't so good at that part - it was a work in progress, and he had a few bloody 'slip-ups' now and then - but it's the effort that really counts and some faeries were downright disgusted that he would even entertain the thought of treating humans as anything more than pets or slaves. The faeries weren't the type to go about killing humans, because they didn't have to, they just fed on emotions. However, the general opinion on humans was more of an entertaining little play thing, barely beings in their own right, and are often as nonchalant to killing them as a human would be to swatting a fly. Some even stole children and exhanged them like christmas presents - others ate them, and he knew one in particular (an ex-friend) who had a sizeable amount of infant bones within his dwelling space. He hoped, for his life and others, that he didn't decide to make an appearance here.
His feet landed lightly upon grass, and he was surrounded by trees. Perfect, at least for how he had planned the night out, anyways. It wasn't exactly ideal weather to change in, but he didn't mind winter so much, and could stand the cold for a few seconds while he put on more appropriate attire. Hell, his look was never really appropraite, but faerie royalty tended to be more lenient to that sort of thing than, say, the queen of England would be. He slipped off his bright orange backpack off of himself - the damn thing had been annoying him the entire flight - and through it down to a spot where no snow touched, due to the thickly grown coniferous tree above it. His eyes, like deep seas, shifted about a few times to make sure there was nobody around. Nobody seemed to be, but the sounds of the partiers were close. He just had to hope one of them didn't get too tipsy and wander into the woods for whatever reasons their drunken minds could muster. Feeling safe, he slid his denim jeans down slender legs, shivering as the breath of Jack Frost nipped at his exposed thighs, and pulled his black jacket and loose fitting white t-shirt over his head in one simple, fluid motion. He took a second to shiver there, even half-naked, and he felt over his stomach, his ribs just barley visible through his flesh. He'd probably go straight inside and stuff his face with whatever surely luxurious foods they had available. He dug in his back and put on a simple white dress shirt, buttoning it and slipping on a black tuxedo vest; The pants could wait, his nipples couldn't. His fingers worked fast to fasten his tie into the correct nots as his fingers trembled in cold. Slipping on pants, he shook off the little dotlets of snow, and put nimble feet inside the pointed heals of his shoes, the real star of tonight's clothing. Stuffing everything inside a bag, he took the time to eye himself inside the glass-like reflection of a small flowing stream. He smiled a bit at the sight of his glamour, frowning as he knew what was under it. Not one to dwell in his own self-pity, he sprung up from his position and sprinted down to the castle, his lithe body weightless against the packed snow. Coming to rest at the entrance, and exchanging a glare with those who judged him for his decidingly child-like entry, he walked in the door and looked around. Typical of fairies, the place was beautiful, and sparkles fell about as they were shooken off splendid ornaments.
"I feel like I'm going to puke rainbows.", he scowled, as he stepped in with a click of his feet against porcelian floors. His eyes shifted to a girl a head shorter than him, but much more attention-drawing (which was quite an accomplishment, even with his hair flattened and piercings out). While his hair was more of his aesthetic love of black-and-white rather than a way to bring himself fanfare, there was something about her that screamed 'attention whore', despite not knowing her yet. "You know, I'd rethink that crown if I were you. The royals might find it a tad insulting, no?", he smirked and turned towards her, rudely avoiding eye contact before, and he snickered a bit. His expression was one to make anyone knock a few teeth down his throat. "Of course, you couldactually be a faerie princess, but something tells me you're not.", he grinned, awaiting her reaction. Rolling his eyes, he turned away from her. Sure, he was trying to be good, but good doesn't mean he has to stop being a dick.
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[/justify]template credit to JACK of NOH.