I wanna reveal the history IC; so even if those of you who've read it know about his past, make sure your characters don't~
~As far as the whole CS goes, I've added another weakness (which is in his nickname, and also in the 'Other Equipment' section), rephrased some sentences, and redid his history to include his horse and how he learned of the sorcery. Oh, and I gave him an extra weapon (a sabre) because what with Bleeder having fifty weapons, I felt one was one too little. And lastly, I've added a tidbit about his speech into the Strengths section.
What with the bone-vest, just see my previous post.
'I seen the bastard myself, stopping on the brow of the hill overlooking Velerath late one evening, just as the sun was setting. The blighted thing was headless, but it cradled its own head in its arms and I heard it call out a name. I put my hand across my only ear in case the name was my own, so I couldn't hear what it said. When I looked again, it was gone. Next day, found an extra skeleton atop o' that pile on the hill. I think he did that. All of that. I'm staying the hell away from there, and from that damned devil.' ~ Ol' One-Ear the Dragur
<><<>><> Basics <><<>><>
Grynn. A name he had given himself as a sort of metaphor, and in a lame attempt at irony. If you wish to incite his wrath and make him go mad with anger hotter than a forge and steam to bellow from his ears, then simply call him 'Gan Ceann'.
He is known around Velerath, not by reputation, but by sightings. He is oft times seen galloping past the entrance in a furious blur atop his bright and snorting steed.
always in a hurry. Every night, at the same time, to and fro,
with the same expression of haste coated on his Undead face.
- -~- - Dullahan - -~- -
<><<>><> Appearance and Equipment <><<>><>
Attire and Looks:
He dons the attire of human nobility, a sort of bone-vest strapped to his chest for protection, with a flowing black cape cascading down his back, a trademark to his name, something you can lose your eyes in. The most important factor of his appearance, of course, is the fact that he is headless. He breathes as any other undead, and yet he sees so much more. He carries his head upon his arms as he rides, sometimes on the saddle-brow of his horse, and his pupils move back and forth, still functioning as if still at its rightful place atop his neck. His face is the colored of rotten dough or moldy cheese, his eyes are nearly all black with a dim circle of gray around the irises, and his hair is black as well. He has a sort of peculiar smile plastered to his face, of a deep smirk, yet if closely inspected it would seem false - and if one looked even closer, one could see a deeper sense of sorrow lingering around his face; a vast, empty sorrow. He indeed knows sorcery, though it is considered 'utility sorcery', and it is both rare and peculiar. His boots, too, are tattered and faded with use, but it can be told that they have saved his life more than once, and they still have that air of hollowed, abysmal, empty that always seems to be scattered about Undeath. Other than that, he has a seemingly purple fog around his body's neck, and around his head's stub of a neck. There's a shade of black included with it, and maybe a hint of gray.
Weapons: He uses a a standard Gaelic sword, rusted at its edge with overuse, but an efficient blade nonetheless. It is said that he uses a whip made of the spines of his prey, but this is completely inaccurate, and the only 'prey' that is victim to his wrath is his own self-pity. He carries no shield, and he uses his other hand to merely punch, or perhaps fit a dagger with. He also carries a like-new sabre with him, almost glowing with its lack of use. It is somewhat of a treasure to him, a prized possession that he would only use as a last resort.
Other Equipment: His head is not equipment, quite clearly, but is most definitely a peculiar asset of his. It has the ability to turn into a beautiful and dark cape, with eyes at its center, allowing him to see behind him, making blindspots hard to detect. (His Achilles tendon is his main weakspot, and he will bug the f-u-c-k out if any gold is shown within a mile of him) The way he sees in front of him is by the 'fog' around his stubs, giving him not sight, but a sort of sixth sense - a kind of echolocation, though not precisely. If he uses his body to hold out his head, he can see down the countryside for miles. Other than that, his vest is extremely durable, though there is nothing particularly great about it, perhaps he was simply lucky all those times...
Sorcery: Yes, his head-crap is a rarer type of sorcery which was learned as a part of his most brutal past, a rotten chip of wood that he'd rather not speak about.
<><<>><> Inner Workings <><<>><>
When Grynn was a young 'infant' among the Undeath, merely the age of 23, he had an unnatural fear of dissipitating into nothingness, a fear of his soul running out. He terrorized any Undead he saw, whispering salty threats in their ears, only to receive their blood on his hands in return. He hungered for a way to cure his aging soul, to have 'eternal' Undeath, and so he traveled. He traveled over land, cradling his head in his hands, the only warmth he had. He was wearing nothing. He had not a weapon on him. He was nude and weaponless, and to this day he knows not how he killed so many Undead with his bare hands – perhaps the vigor of youth? Regardless, he traveled on foot, not stopping at any one place, unaware of Velerath's existence.
It was then that he came upon a stream, a stream of a thick black liquid, that he did not understand. Grynn dipped his foot in its body, immediately feeling evaporated. He almost fell, sliding into the stream completely, naked body now bathing in its contents. His vision blurred, his eyes stung, and his grip loosened on his head. He almost lost it until he heard the snort and whinny of a nearby horse. It reared up close, steadied. It kicked him in the back of the neck.
Bastard! Grynn had thought.
The fury was enough to get him out. He stood up, one fist clenched, the other clutching his head tightly together. He forced himself out of the water, smokey fog rising from the stubs on his neck. He raised a fist toward the horse, but lowerd it almost immediately. He stared at the horse. It stared back. It surely was a peculiar stallion, smooth white hair agaisnst a smooth gray body, his tail a deep midnight black, his hooves a deep cloud white. The horse came closer, and nudged at him with its mouth. He followed.
The horse took him to another fellow like him; headless. The difference was that he wore clothing, a deep black cape flowing down to the ground, spotless. Grynn nearly went mad just looking at it, and it took all of his non-heart to look away from it. Of course, the man was already upon him, sword drawn, head...
...Reattached? Grynn was in awe, and if his jaw fell any lower he was sure it would have come completely off, making him look more the Undead. He stumbled backwards on his arse, reaching out for a weapon, before remembering that he didn't have one.
But the man halted, stared, and then sheathed his weapon. He came forward and offered his gloved hand to Grynn, staring up toward him with the closet thing to a smile an Undead to could get. Grynn stood up, for the first time feeling out of place because he was naked. And so it happened.
He talked with the man, who revealed to Grynn his name to be Synn. Funny, but there was probably a reason behind it. They spoke and talked and chatted. He gave him clothing, a spotlessly black pair of noble attire. Grynn was quick to put it on. He showed Grynn how to use sorcery, how to ride a horse without busting his head, well, his neck open. The only thing he couldn't teach Grynn was how to use a sword; that, Grynn knew his way around. He had shown Grynn how to tie a knot, how to start a fire - which was white for some reason, and as the fire roared and flickered, it too seemed sad in these unfortunate times.
The most important skill Grynn learned was the sorcery, of course. He learned how to utilize his head, how to utilize his cape, how to adjust to the senses and vision. But even more importantly, he taught Grynn how to feel. Of course, Grynn would never know happiness, for it was only a 'week' later before his new found friend had disappeared, leaving a Gaelic sword behind, as well as a Sabre inside of a metal case. It was rather surprising, really, how he even had a case that wasn't stolen or chipped. There was also a letter lef t behind, that Grynn was only able to read due to his lessons with his friend. He picked up his sword and carried on, before realizing the horse that had helped him at the stream was following behind him.
Of course, they soon became companions, and Grynn rode him as such. Fifty-seven years later and Grynn has found Velerath, riding back and forth between the entrance, stopping occasionally to release his ghastly wail.
Strengths/Skills: Grynn has a limited power of speech. His disembodied head is permitted to speak any time it wants, but in a duel/battle it then has only the ability to call the name of the person whose death he heralds/he is fighting. His vest, his badass horse, and his head are the biggest assets he has in his repertoire. He has almost no fears, but unfortunately this comes at the almost unrealistic and irrational fear of*death.Not of his own Undead life, but of his horse. He has grown as attached as an Undead can get to his horse, and needless to say, the feeling is mutual.
Gender: Male, but who cares; it's a horse.
Status: Undead/Inhabited by a Spirit
Appearance and Equipment
Attire and Looks: He looks pretty much the same as the mount in the picture. He's an extremely sturdy and reliable companion, and he's about as fleshy as an Undead can get. His eyes are deep gold, seemingly indented into his face, with big round pupils. His 'hair' droops down to his sides, a sort of swampy and smooth feel to it, gray and aschy. He wears no armor save for his saddle, which is metallic in feel and appearance. His Undead fur is the color of a grave, gray with a black tail and white hooves.
Other Equipment: N/A
History: Same as his Master Grynn's. He does not know how he came to be inhabited by a spirit, and it is quite possible he does not know it, being a horse. He's a horse whose only feelings are that of its rider, feeling anger, pride, sorrow along with Grynn's own feelings. The only feeling it has of its own is a sort of 'compassion' for Grynn, if a horse, or even an Undead, could call it such a thing.
Personality: Very self-reliable and independent. He bites and kicks most others who try to ride him, and there are moments when he is not his own hay-loving self, but rather, something else, something with a thought. He is strong and firm, and will ride anywhere, even to the Undeath, with its Master.
Strengths/Skills: Being inhabited by a Spirit is a rather 'up there' strength, allowing him to have thought processes that a horse would otherwise not have. His kick is as strong as a horse's body allows, which is pretty damn strong. It would be useful if most Undead didn't have weapons, and if horses didn't have such damned short legs.