Zakarias
Pointed and purposeful. Prone to antagonize and satirize. A lover of the dramatic. A stirrer of trouble. A mischief maker. Not the sort of person you want to find yourself adventuring with. But hey, if you do, its best to try and get on his good side.
Appearance
Tall and imposing, especially when in his Jester's regalia and behind his mask of dueling humors. He is long limbed and lanky, and his bones are packed with chorded muscle. His skin changes depending on the time of day. A dappled purple, like a midnight sky on a moonless night, spotted by bright spots of ley magick coursing through his veins, and in the day, a lifeless white, like pale stone cut from a frigid peak.
Prone to quick and elegant movement, he often surprises those before him with his beguiling speed. Long legs close distance quick, and his frame seems to bend and stretch with an unnatural elasticity.
Most often, he is found in his regalia. A blood red affair, gilded with golden trim. Gashes of white pattern the puffy sleaves, and bright gold bells jingle from the points of his hat and the twisted flairs that go out from his costume. A towering orchid, bright and bold in its defiance. His face is hidden behind a mask of dueling humors, one side smiling too wide, and the other frowning deeply.
He almost never shows his skin.
His most striking feature are his burning silver eyes. Seething with a spiteful purpose that he all too often hides behind unnatural glee.
Prone to quick and elegant movement, he often surprises those before him with his beguiling speed. Long legs close distance quick, and his frame seems to bend and stretch with an unnatural elasticity.
Most often, he is found in his regalia. A blood red affair, gilded with golden trim. Gashes of white pattern the puffy sleaves, and bright gold bells jingle from the points of his hat and the twisted flairs that go out from his costume. A towering orchid, bright and bold in its defiance. His face is hidden behind a mask of dueling humors, one side smiling too wide, and the other frowning deeply.
He almost never shows his skin.
His most striking feature are his burning silver eyes. Seething with a spiteful purpose that he all too often hides behind unnatural glee.
Skills and Abilities
Duanann Heritage
A strong connection to the lines of ley grant him a devastating reserve of magick, with further access to the lines of Ley that course throughout the world. When found in a location where multiple lines of Ley meet, Zakarias' ability to wield his magicks becomes torrential, though this requires preparation and ritual.
Celestial Affinity
The Moon
Elemental Affinity
Air
Psycho-Mancer
Once an aspiring Illusor of the Dusk Court, Zakarias has become intimately familiar with the manipulation and misdirection of the minds of living things. Able to impose his influence onto others beyond mere suggestion, he is capable of creating illusions of sight, sound, smell, even emotions and physical sensation. If he learns the name of his victim, his ability to disturb their mind through magick becomes all the easier. His will can be channeled into another's mind through ancient cants, melodies, seals and dances, meaning, if a mark avoids hearing him cant, hearing his instrument, having a seal written upon their person, or watching him dance, they may yet avoid its affects.
Duelist
He is threateningly skilled with rapier and dueling knife.
Musician
Zakarias loves to perform music. He is especially fond of the Lyre. So much so that he is able to channel his magick through his instruments.
A strong connection to the lines of ley grant him a devastating reserve of magick, with further access to the lines of Ley that course throughout the world. When found in a location where multiple lines of Ley meet, Zakarias' ability to wield his magicks becomes torrential, though this requires preparation and ritual.
Celestial Affinity
The Moon
Elemental Affinity
Air
Psycho-Mancer
Once an aspiring Illusor of the Dusk Court, Zakarias has become intimately familiar with the manipulation and misdirection of the minds of living things. Able to impose his influence onto others beyond mere suggestion, he is capable of creating illusions of sight, sound, smell, even emotions and physical sensation. If he learns the name of his victim, his ability to disturb their mind through magick becomes all the easier. His will can be channeled into another's mind through ancient cants, melodies, seals and dances, meaning, if a mark avoids hearing him cant, hearing his instrument, having a seal written upon their person, or watching him dance, they may yet avoid its affects.
Duelist
He is threateningly skilled with rapier and dueling knife.
Musician
Zakarias loves to perform music. He is especially fond of the Lyre. So much so that he is able to channel his magick through his instruments.
Personality
Purposefully aimless, and prone to meaningful prattle, there is an intensity to Zakarias many find unsettling, and some find quite refreshing. Most seem to like him, for some reason or the other, despite his aura of menace, though he cannot say he reciprocates. A creature of contradictions, loud subtleties if you would. Its easy to get the feeling that he is up to something. The only question is what?
When he does find purpose, it sees him travel far and wide. Oft in search of some long lost treasure or relic, knowing all too well the importance such things have in the world of men, and so, he is highly motivated when it comes to acquiring things such as treasure, relics, magical items and tomes, the sort of things that help a jester stir more trouble.
When he does find purpose, it sees him travel far and wide. Oft in search of some long lost treasure or relic, knowing all too well the importance such things have in the world of men, and so, he is highly motivated when it comes to acquiring things such as treasure, relics, magical items and tomes, the sort of things that help a jester stir more trouble.
Biography & Lore
"Where do I come from? Why, wouldn't you like to know?" Zakarias plucked at the bright strings of his lyre, like the wind might pluck a leaf from a branch in the dead of an autumn chill. Then his fingers danced across the strings, light and airy, as if fresh snow fell from on high. "I come from the most beautiful land of all, past the bright star, just to the left of the autumn moon. You would know it when you see it, I am sure." The towering jester, hidden behind his pale mask and its twisted expression, strummed his lyre, gentle as a breeze across spring grass. His bells jingled softly. "There we sang and danced, loved and cheered all throughout the years." He plucked louder then, his long fingers picked firmly as the cadence jumped hot and steady, like the unforgiving summer sun. "And now I am here," his sweet tone took on a sinister twist as the lyre twanged sour. HIs eyes narrowed, knife thin. "In this pisshole of a town, surrounded by you mindless lot," from behind his mask he growled a happy growl. "But don't you worry., fair townsfolk," and there were many townsfolk gathered around the table upon which he sat.
They stood stunned. A mass of them, too many for the tavern to hold with any room for comfort. Their eyes were wide and pregnant with a fear born from shapeless horrors, not there in that room.
A sweet run of strums across the strings set the tempo frantic and off kilter. "Zakarias will remember you," he said in a voice that was sing and song. When he strummed his lyre again with a heavy hand, one man behind the bar grabbed up a bottle of spirits, and stuffed it with an old bar rag that hung out the other end.
"Kill them with fire!" Shouted the man behind the bar, blood curdling in his throat as he set the rag aflame with a nearby candle. He tossed it against the wall. It exploded in a wash of gold and hungry red.
"That's right!" Zakarias exclaimed happily. "You burned my home, just like that." He stood upon the table, his golden bells a jingle as he surveyed the masses, whose screams rang out, high and shrill and full of fear. "And I will forever remember your sweet deathknell songs!" He exclaimed, eyes bright with glee, hands outstretched as if to accept their praise for his performance. “And your stink!” He flourished his hands and bowed. "Just as I remember theirs,” he said, voice a wrathful growl that trembled in his throat.
The tavern crackled and burned as bright golden fires crept up the walls and ate old greasy wood, ravenous. All of the villagers, so tightly packed, tried to run. Bulled each other over, trampled friend and neighbor underfoot. But none knew where to find the door.
"Farewell, fair people of Manz," he exclaimed once more, and blew a kiss, then two before he bowed low to them, as if their shouts were a plea for encore. He let all the sounds sink into him as he breathed in hot smoke filled breaths, ecstatic behind his mask. He popped straight up, seemed to bounce, like some child’s toy let loose from his box. “Until next time we meet!” He said as he strode, quick and easily for the door.
They stood stunned. A mass of them, too many for the tavern to hold with any room for comfort. Their eyes were wide and pregnant with a fear born from shapeless horrors, not there in that room.
A sweet run of strums across the strings set the tempo frantic and off kilter. "Zakarias will remember you," he said in a voice that was sing and song. When he strummed his lyre again with a heavy hand, one man behind the bar grabbed up a bottle of spirits, and stuffed it with an old bar rag that hung out the other end.
"Kill them with fire!" Shouted the man behind the bar, blood curdling in his throat as he set the rag aflame with a nearby candle. He tossed it against the wall. It exploded in a wash of gold and hungry red.
"That's right!" Zakarias exclaimed happily. "You burned my home, just like that." He stood upon the table, his golden bells a jingle as he surveyed the masses, whose screams rang out, high and shrill and full of fear. "And I will forever remember your sweet deathknell songs!" He exclaimed, eyes bright with glee, hands outstretched as if to accept their praise for his performance. “And your stink!” He flourished his hands and bowed. "Just as I remember theirs,” he said, voice a wrathful growl that trembled in his throat.
The tavern crackled and burned as bright golden fires crept up the walls and ate old greasy wood, ravenous. All of the villagers, so tightly packed, tried to run. Bulled each other over, trampled friend and neighbor underfoot. But none knew where to find the door.
"Farewell, fair people of Manz," he exclaimed once more, and blew a kiss, then two before he bowed low to them, as if their shouts were a plea for encore. He let all the sounds sink into him as he breathed in hot smoke filled breaths, ecstatic behind his mask. He popped straight up, seemed to bounce, like some child’s toy let loose from his box. “Until next time we meet!” He said as he strode, quick and easily for the door.
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