Zanthic & Nymeris [WIP]

[[cass]]

Full Name: Zanthic Mallioux
Other name: Zanthic
Race: Human
Side: Empire

Birthplace: Surda
Age: 22
Gender: Male
Birthday: 13 of October

Eyes: Brown, almost black
Hair: Blonde
Weight: 65kg
Height: 6 foot four

Magic User: Yes. He is a magic user, has been trained by Galbatorix, knows dark magic.

Preferred Weapon(s): His riders sword, Andlat (it means Death). He received the riders sword for Galbatorix when he began severing him.

WARNING SCENES OF CURELTY

Appearance: The blood licks his fingers, delicate ruby droplets lay scattered across the soiled ground. They drained into the cracks and crevices that smeared the floor. They aged old building that he stood in was crumbling and there was evidence of its inability to stand strong anymore. Fine, crimson streaks stain his arms. Running down to his elbow before pooling and slowly dripping. The gentle drip drip dripdripdrip thrumming across the ground. There was so much blood. A twisted sick grin sparked the boys face. Malicious seemed to drip (pooling at his feet) from his mouth, and it was obvious to everyone that the harsh features of a snarling face, that this boy was not kind. everything about him was harsh, there was nothing lingering on him to speak otherwise. He was a sadistic boy.

Venom glittered in his eyes, they were the darkest kind of brown, edging towards black and they spoke more than any amount of words could. The most frightening part of them was the fact that there was no sign of remorse, guilt or shame. There was only disappointment. The blood that had been spilled had not been enough. The cat had not screamed the way he had tried to make it scream. He wanted it to feel red hot agony, to feel the pain of his fingers digging into it and slowly tearing it apart. The blood and the oh so obvious glee that seemed to cross his features in a flash as he looked downwards, as he stared happily at the body of the cat below him. His eyebrows sank low on his head, pulled down into an almost playful snarl, but then he always looked this way, a cruel edge hovering above everything he did. A flash of bright teeth and another type of smirk, cold and demeaning, no matter what you did everyone knew that there was nothing, but cruelty and pain when it came to this boy.

The agonized screams of the cat seemed to freeze in the air, where they echoed even after the mutilated things death. His string hands had gripped the cat with strength as it squirmed and hissed, clawed and fought for its life. It hadn't been enough. With glee he had held it down, his long fingers catching its in the stomach and pressing it hard, crushing it onto the table. Its cries of anger soon turned to pain as he pulled. Yanking at each of its legs until they came off. Glee seemed to smother the frown of concentration that held his face in place. His strong, lean body leaned over the mangled cat, his eyes drinking in the beautiful site of his work. The air was tinged with the metallic smell of blood and he breathed it in. Loving the taste on his tongue, the pleasure made his smirk turn into a full-fledged grin. Gently he stroked the blood coated fur. His blood stained hand rubbing against the slick fur, brushing it back. There was a certain amount of care that followed each touch, as though he wanted the cat to look good. And he did. Death was a beautiful thing and the feel of the death clinging to your own hands was magical.

Personality:

The friendless young boy was a monster. He was no real human. Humans didn't do what he did, he wasn't right, he wasn't a real person, he was insane. Red flushed his cheeks, fainter than the small blood platters, and it only gave him a more intimidating, angry look. With one flickering glance towards Zanthic everyone know to stay away from him. A dark, dangerous cloud seemed to hang over the disturbed boy and it threatened to unleash a storm with everything he did. Barely controlled sanity clung to his outsides, and it was cracked and frayed at the edges ready to spill into a full storm, in which he would destroy everything and everyone including himself.

There was little more than cruelty underneath him. there wasn't much of anything and he was not truly a human being, for no human could be as sick as he was. A lot of things can be said to be called a human, a lot of wrongs can be made and you can still be called a man, but Zanthic was neither man nor human. He had expanded that boundary within the first years of his life. He was born evil. It grew in him, a black and twisted sickness that ate away at every ounce of good that he had -hell, to begin with there was barely anything good in him. It took little under a year for him to become dark and twisted, his thinking sicker and more disturbing than anyone could ever imagine. No evil dark thought has not crossed his mind. No good deed every comes within a mile of him, to him the only thing he can do is cause pain and misery to others. To hurt is to win and gain to be friendly and have friends is a loss. Friends are pointless and useless, the only thing they are capable of is breaking your heart.

"Zanthic, you stabbed that man. You stabbed him."

It was at that point that his father began to finally see. He had tried his best to remain invisible, to ignore all the signs, the blood, the dead mutilated animals and the cruel harsh edge that lightened the boys eyes. There was always something menacing in him, dark and forbidding. A dangerous, deathly light reflected in his eyes, cold and calculating. Always trying to figure out a new way to cause pain, to hurt and injure people. There was never any reason for him to think otherwise. He wanted to feel peoples pain, their terror and misery. He loved the burning feeling it gave him in his chest. The pleasure and glee that would cause the greedy smirk to light up his face. There was always greed to hurt more, to cause more suffering and pain. It was the only thing that made him happy. To Zanthic there had never been anything more important than another person's agony, their blood on his hands, their screams crying his name, pleading and begging for him for mercy. It never came.

The day he pulled out his fathers gun and shot them man had been the last straw. It had been the first human life he had ever taken. It had awoken a thirst in him a need and want to kill. He loved the idea of taking a life away. He loved playing like a God, being able to end a whole life with one simple bullet. He felt so powerful, so strong. After he fled his home he found Caspian. A cunning, charismic boy who knew how to get people to do his will with a few simple words. At first look he seemed to get Zanthic and he promised him everything he wanted. He promised him every ounce of blood and pain that he could get. Zanthic liked him, some dark and twisted part of him told him that he could get the blood he craved and the lives he wanted to waste so he stayed, keeping his loyalties to himself, and over the time he became obsessed with a need to hurt the girl that clung to Caspian like a parasite. He had never felt so much more of a want in his life to kill.

He has no one and nothing, but he continues to defy everyone with his dedication and want to live and extract revenge and those that have wronged him. He never gives up, he wants to hurt everyone, he doesn't care who it is, if they are human they are his. They are his to destroy. With a flick of his wrist the mutilated body flew off the table, landing with a dull thud against the wall. It slide down, smears of blood staining the white paint. His eyes watched it, burning with the intensity of everything inside him. They flared for a brief second, flickering dangerously, an ominous dance walking amongst the flames of hate. He held himself tall, a greedy, gleeful smirk twisting his evil lips. His eyes danced, and he turned away from the body a dark forbidding shadow clinging to his every movement. An air of menacing sadism followed him, and it trailed him with every step he took, everything evil in the room fled as he left.

Then there was only the dead, mutilated cat, its eyes staring lifelessly into the sky, but even dead the pain and agony that filled its eyes was obvious. Meanwhile a devious smile, lingered on Zanthic's face, the tortured screams of the cat echoing through his head look a beautiful and sweet song.

--->Likes: Causing pain, killing things, making things scream.
--->Dislikes: People making him be in pain. People not screaming, you know the stuff that everyone normally hates, he likes.
--->Strengths: Hurting people. He knows how to make people scream, he has no problems with that.
--->Weakness: He doesn't know anything, but causing pain, he doesn't understand anything, but making people hurt. Being separated from Nymeris.

Family:
Father -- Deceased.
Mother -- Deceased.
Sister -- Alive.

History:

It all began when he was seventeen. Three nights after his birthday he found himself in front of Galbatorix. It hadn't been much of his choice, and many stories of his work had circulated through the kingdom. From the age of thirteen he had become a sadistic psychopath that everyone wanted to stay away from. No one trusted him, it was very hard to do so. Within seconds he could have his strong hands wrapped around your throat as you begged with the little air you had left to live. Oh and that would never do. He would laugh. Head rolling backwards, a beautiful, joy filled laugh that only made his victim cry. No one lived when he didn't want them to live. His reputation had grown fearsome and strong within the the four years before he meet Galbatorix. He had lived in a lot of towns, he had to slink from one to the other if he wanted to get on with his murder without anyone capturing him and hanging him. He might love the feel of a life being taken by his own hands, but he did not like the idea of loosing his own life.


Anything extra:

Dragon Bio
Name: Nymeris Brightscales

Side: Empire

Birthplace: Urû’baen
Was his/her egg in the wild or with the empire/varden: Empire
If Dragon Rider, how did the rider find the egg?: Was given to him by Galbatorix, to see if the egg would hatch, it did.
Age: 5 years
Gender: Female

Eyes: Black
Scale Color: Crimson red

Appearance: Nymeris is crimson red, it as though the very blood she has spilled has stained her skin, embedding itself into her scales. She loves it. Just like Zanthic there is always a murderous glint to her eyes. Galbatorix did nothing to make her this way, she just loves the feel of death. She loves, oh how much loves to feel a life perish beneath her teeth, an entire body being destroyed with a careless with of her claws. No one can stand in the way of her, she is massive. She has grown to be one of the biggest female dragons of all time. Four years was not much, but with dark magic she grew, she did not even mind the rapid growth, it made her feel powerful and alive, it made her shine and it made people fear her. Iron hard scales cover her entire body, every single one of them the same, deep ruby red, not a single scale is out of colour. Her eyes are black, two bottomless bits of smoldering evil. They are always cold, a deathly glint flickers within their confines.

Personality: (Weak willed? Strong hearted? Charismatic? Loner? How does he/she react with others?)

--->Likes: Pain making people hurt. Killing. Blood, gore, murder, death, oh she loves death.
--->Dislikes: People not getting hurt. People hurting her. People not listening to her. Not being able to fight, she hates the idea of death, she fears it and although she can deal with it with ease she fears death.
--->Strengths: Flying, killing, murder, the usual
--->Weakness: Pain and death (dah) being separated from Zanthic.

Password: witch of Terim