Drederick Archanis

Biographical information

Birthplace Vel Anir Born Died Age Adult Home Vel Anir Sexuality Pronouns

Physical description

Race Human Sub-Race Gender Male Height 6'1 Mass 185lbs Hair color Brown Eye color Blue Skin color Fair

Political information

Affiliation(s) Vel Anir Occupation Dreadlord Clan(s) Caste Domain Masters Apprentices Alias(es)

Out-of-character information

Writer Eren'thiel Xyrdithas Created on 2020-04-19 Avatar Source

Drederick is a calculating and frigid individual, quite proficient in stratagem. Anything and everything is nothing but an asset for him to make use of, and emotional attachment does not exist. He will without hesitation use others for his own gain - making him an excellent tactician and survivalist.

He is quite skilled with a sword, and can make good use of a wide variety of weapons. He is a fair shot with a bow or crossbow, but has an excellent arm for hurling a spear.

Magic:

His chosen primary art is the use of elemental magic, conjuring lightning from the sky, with the potential given enough training to prompt the onset of a localized, incredibly powerful lightning storm.

His true preference lies in the dark arts, and in secret he studies them with far more diligence than any other study. Already he is capable of reanimating the fallen into mindless, obedient servants for a fair duration of time - holding an impressive control over such minions. He has an interest in all forms of Dark Magic, and is eager to explore as many of them as possible - and experiment with them.

For the most part, Drederick seems devoid of any love, any sorrow or even hate. His voice carries and chilling emptiness, filled with hollow truths and vengeful lies. He sees others as nothing but players in an act to tell the story of his total authority. Each and every obstacle, an answer to him. He is fearless, either ignorant of the severity of his potential death or even its possibility, or simply indifferent to whether he lives or dies. But then, he believes he will never truly die - for in truth he is a god, robed in flesh to toy with his creations and to be as one of them - for fun.

He still remembers the night he was taken. Beyond that, there is very little he remembers of his past life - all forced from his mind by the mental and physical rigors the Dreadlord Academy subjected him to. But that night it seems, has been forever scarred upon his mind. Arriving home to find his mother, bruised from his father's drunken rage fueled by the failure of his career and life it seemed: an injured Guardsman, doomed to live out his life as nothing more than a useless burden on the Guard.

Drederick threw himself at his father, but was powerless to do anything to the man - and instead found himself thrown out into the evening rain. His mother, beaten as she was, came to him with a smile and did reach to comfort him and ease him. He remembers her smile, telling him everything was okay, holding him close.

And amid his sobs, his anger grew and rage took him, and blinded him.

When his awareness returned, he stood over the lifeless body of his mother - who had suffered a long and excruciating death at the hands of his hidden magics.

Her screams alerted those nearby - and soon they came. First the Guardsmen, beholding his mother's body devoid of skin left in a heap outside the home. His drunken father, fearful and broken, unable to believe his son was capable of what had become of his beloved. No, for all his fault he couldn't allow his son to be blamed. To be taken.

They slew him before Drederick's empty stare, goring him there in his own home.

For a time, his presence at the Academy was loathed. Though proving to be quite the swordsmen, he failed to control his magic at will for quite some time - even to this day. But his determination to control it compels him - every night, every spare moment, spent in thought or practice of his skills. He would be absolute. He would be power.