Age: 29
Appearance:
Personality: Leonidas Blaze, the bane of any good gambler, is a quirky man with his own set of morals. One fourth of the time, he's drunk, two fourth's of the time, he's sitting on his ass, playing poker and playing the lute, and the last one fourth of the time is spent fighting as a mercenary. Many would view him as lethargic, and for the most part, he definitely is, but never judge a book by its cover. Underneath the lazy and drunk-like personality that covers him, is a dignified prince, once heir to a kingdom, and a competent enough fighter, with a calm mind (when sober).
When he is drunk, however, things change. He becomes violently reckless, prone to doing what one would expect from a drunk man, and more. In an inebriated state, he'd be more than willing to stare down Kasus, nevermind the ramifications, and even engage in combat with the Demon Of War and Fighting.
Bio: "Now, there are stories often told about the end of the world. You know most of them, since I've told you all of what I know. But there was one story that I haven't told you, and it is about the Lucky Fire. The Lucky Fire, you ask, what is it? The Lucky Fire is no 'it'. The Lucky Fire was a man, a human like you and I, with something special about him. He was an Anceiron.
Ah, yes, I can tell from the glee in your eye's already, you wish to hear more. Well, get comfortable, its story time.
The Lucky Fire, named for his luck, and perhaps his last name, which may have been a synonym for 'fire', although I do not know, was a man born in one of the Frontier kingdoms. So close to the gate, and yet so protected. It was small, but hardy, with one of the best trained militaries in Azeira, which it had to have, because it faced demon insurgence every day, and every night.
Ruled by the Matriarch, the Queen and army leader, and the King, who handled the domestic affairs, it was certainly a harsh place to live, but one was relatively safe behind the borders. The King and Matriarch had, as their predecessors did, always put their sights on defense of the continent, and containment of the demons, and nothing else. Their armies stood brave and strong at the Gate, protecting as best as they could.
The Fire, was born to the Matriarch one night, in a particularly bad time. Their Fifth Defence had fallen, out of the Seven that they had, and it did not bode well. The Matriarch rode out, with the last of her army to the frontlines, leaving the King to care for the Fire. The Matriarch had to be a brave and powerful woman, riding out right after she had given birth, but that was of no help against the Demons.
She was slain in battle, her body broken after she single handedly fought against the Demon of Carnage, and lost. She died an honorable death, but it was death nonetheless. Her effort, however my children, were not in vain. The enemy was driven back, and the Demon of Carnage thrown back into the Gate, after one of the greatest frontier battles of all time.
The King took care of her child, who he realized would be bound by tradition and unable to defend their country. He also realized that tradition did not allow him to remarry. So, in a single decision, after four years of thought, he made his choice. The Fire was to be taught the art of battle, to lead, and also to manage the country. But he put domestic affairs first, and only another four years of diplomatic custom and law-mongering with the other nobles later did his plan come to fruition, just in time for the child's eighth birthday, which was perfect.
He was trained by the Matriarch's own teacher, a woman with no patience. Her training took over a decade and a half, and even then it was not complete.
At the age of 25, he was beckoned to once again stand for his country. The demons had once again reached the Fifth Defence, a feat that had only occurred once, twenty five years back, when the Matriarch was still alive. Things seemed bad, as his training was almost three years from total completion, and he hadn't learned the Ancient technique that had allowed his mother to stand against the Carnage Demon. Bleak was the situation, but still he rode to battle, with fear in his eyes.
Before them, stood a massive army, approaching the Sixth Defence wall. As they rode out to fight the demons off, they realized something was wrong. There were far too many demons than they had originally seen. They rampaged straight through the army, tearing through the Sixth Wall like hot butter. It was the end, and the Fire was only able to escape just barely with his life.
The loss of any family he had, his friends, his kingdom, and his cause drove him to alcohol, as he ran from kingdom to kingdom, trying to get away from the demons. It was the only way he could cope with his loss, and over time he learnt to deal with the morning hangovers.
But after a while, he realized that running was not the way he could live for his entire time on Azeira. This was the beginning of his mercenary days, and although his alcohol consumption lessened slightly, he still didn't get rid of it. In fact, being drunk even helped him in battle.
Oh look at the time, young ones! The sun is low, and you must return home. I will tell you the rest of the story later."
Equipment: Steel armor, fashioned by one of the better blacksmith's of the Ancient days, a family heirloom. A long and polished wooden lute, once well kept and now in a tattered and broken condition, yet still playable. A belt, originally meant for holding his swords, and now jury rigged to also hold bottles of any sort. A tattered cape, the last remnant of his long lost dignity and princeliness, often overlooked by most.
Weapon(s): Two swords, one long, one handed one made of the purest steel, cold to the touch, and the slayer of demons. The second, a short sword for parrying, which is mostly useless in battle due to its slightly fragile nature.
Anceiron Enhanced Ability (to make it clear): Ridiculous amounts of luck
WIP, as I fell asleep