Compte Casio Cassienda
As wind sweeps the Reach's plains, now laden in corpse-stench and the rot of power gone long to fester, does dawn break over the capital; an effervescent gold to herald victory. The kiss of light paints the stone and spiraling keep with beauty such that the poets and songsters of the age cannot begin to describe. Instead, they touch upon it in singularity, with grace and respect befitting the regal scene.
Daywalkers all, so callous and casual in their appreciation. Oh Casio, how you long to share in the splendor! How the warmth of dawn might sing to your very soul! And yet, in the grip of cold undeath, you know nothing of it but the long, ashen taste of nostalgia. Lover of the brilliant dawn, crawler of nights seen gray and bleak, let the very image scorch your flesh. Let not remembrance alone stir your never beating heart. Drink of it, heedless of the pain. Whisper its name, the very essence a mantle to enrobe your frame.
Appearance
The rigid lines of him know not the touch of atrophy. Frozen in time, effervescent, Casio is a pale breeze against the open plain; a stirring sight held gently in memory, yet surprising in stature and strength. The claws of scorched scars make ridges of him from where he stood long beneath the sun. His eyes strike as sparks, harsh gold set high beneath his brow.
Skills and Abilities
Vampire; the kiss of undeath rests gently upon his neck where twinned scars mark him for the monster he has become. A creature of the night, uncaring to the passage of time until inevitably he one day crumbles into dust. With it comes a number of boons, ranging from enhanced strength and agility to uncanny resilience to pain and recovery. Most wounds snap shut within days, and he retains functionality even without a limb or two. But these blessings confer vulnerabilities: pure iron scalds his flesh, tearing wounds at a touch that do not heal through natural means, and daylight cripples him. Direct sunlight burns, igniting him on the spot if exposed for too long, and greatly weakens him. The pain itself impairs his cognition, his thoughts a sluggish slurry and his limbs heavy with every attempted motion.
Carapace of the Burning Dawn; the weakness of his curse is lessened by this set of magicked armor. It takes the appearance of a set of linking plate maille, dull and gray while at rest. It clings to him as a second skin, covering the whole of him in its oddly supple material. While worn, the carapace is tight, fitted to his frame with a deeply cowled helm from which only his eyes can escape. In sunlight, it shines brilliantly. Absorbing the heat and energy that would otherwise reduce Casio to cinders, it provides a buffer that allows him to act alongside the daywalkers. It still burns him, evidenced by the puckered rents dug into his flesh, and weakens him, but the brunt of its burden is shouldered by the carapace.
The Golden Blade; swordplay and violence come naturally to Casio, and years of training drilled him to brilliant form. He has seen his share of combat, living to walk away each time. It lends a measure of confidence to him, perhaps easily warped to arrogance, but when the gongs of melee sound he treats his foes as equals in their deadly dance.
Many-Masked Charade; Casio is graced with numerous virtues to middling degrees. A fair rider, well-read, trained in etiquette and politic, he wears an educated facade.
Personality
Refined, disciplined, and often soft spoken. Casio holds a love for art and grace, filling his heart with piety. He defines himself in large part through his position, putting great stock into actions and how they describe one's character. Troubled by his curse, he has spent years battling its symptoms, refusing to compromise his passions in its wake.
Biography & Lore
Born to the house of Cassienda, a landed title belonging to lords granted holdings in the corners of the Reach, Casio was raised to be ever bit the scion of his line. Nursed on etiquette and the carefully sculpted aloofness of nobility, he grew to fit those expectations. Meticulously groomed to be the next Compte of Cassienda, he came to pursue his passions beneath the veil of night when they did not suit his title's demands. Often it led to rumors of him as an irksome child, but his comported himself with perfect placidity in front of peers.
He attended balls and galas, participated in tourneys and competition both for sport and for gain, and made a small name for himself in certain circles. He approached his duties with the efficiency of a taxman at harvest, one coin at a time.
The stars shifted for him shortly after reaching his stride in adulthood. A curse befell the house of Cassienda, the midnight clock striking them one in succession. Disease and illness hung about them, staining their reputation and causing the family to retreat to their country estates. For years they managed that facade, pretenses of a wasting sickness occluding them from attending to the capital. Stewarts handled their duties, and the land laid quiet around them.
For most, the house itself had faded to background noise, showing up on occasion in the rumor mill as exemplars of nobility in exile.
Until Alliria fell under siege. The great battle sent messengers across the land, hastily calling upon levies and promised armsmen. House Cassienda contented itself to the minimum, allowing what token force they maintained to venture to the capital in their name.
Casio alone felt the stirring of the call. His heartland under attack, his home in chaos. Donning the armor so preciously bought to grant him some measure of comfort in his new life, he made for the field at the head of his family's armsmen and partook in the horrors of battle. The beat of savagery tainted him. Forged him into the true shape of the man he had promised to become.
He reveled in it, revealing himself to any who cared listen. Challenged those who took offence. Proved his to be the stronger spine. He earned a place in the Allirian Guard, publicly succeeding his father as Compte of Cassienda. With untold decades left to him, he holds firm the pen of his own destiny.
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