Name:
Nal'Oros
Type:
Burried Demigod.
Appearance:
Nal'Oros is a being who you'd not wish to anger, or even stand in his particular field of vision. Nal'Oros is unique in his existence, he is the one and only like himself. However, being unique was exactly why he was locked within the grandest tombs of Vórós Khástar, they who came before him worried what he might've done to them, and for good reason, however his ice cold hate for what they did can't be forgotten.
Nal'Oros is a collosus, quite literally, his height is hard to measure, and it dwarves even a castle at his side, his body and skin, which once used to be smooth like silk and white as the snow, has now turned into perposturous abominations of their former glory, now they have hardened near that of the bedrock which the mountain lies on, and it must be close to there which he is burried, sealed within his chamber. Beneath the layers of his stone skin can be seen the remnants of his blood, now soiled to the state of barely flowing magma. His once featherly wings has hardened to the same state which his skin was kept, and still the white hues of the snow above continued to soil his body, even his stone skin was the same color of that which he yearned for, the surface.
However, even though he is now hard as stone, and a giant beyond logical proportions, he is still sealed, and he's still retained his humanoid body. Small crevaces can be seen in the arms and torso simply because those who have now long since died out used him as a mine, they built their civilization from the ground of his body. Tens of thousands of years inprisoned has formed his body after the hate which he longs to launch out once he is finally released, it is even said that his anger is fueling the eternal winter storm to be even more ferocious and even more deadly.
All that can be seen of him to the normal surface dweller is the very edge of his sharp fingers, reaching out of the ground in a futile attempt to reach on and grab onto something.
These claws are far from fully noticable to normal people, simply because of the storm, but if the storm were to faulter, then anyone would stand in awe at the scale.
Personality and Drive:
The desire to be free of his below earth prison runs deep in his thoughts, however that is not his final destination, the cold hate which he holds all too dare is something he wishes to release, and anything which he might find undesierable will fall to his hates wake. However, will releasing his hatred be all which there'll be? Nal'Oros has become a collosus bent on destruction over thousands of years of imprisonment, however, is there no other plan behind his wish for eternal damnation to whomever cross his path?
History:
Not even Nal'Oros can recall how many years it has been since he was born from the very foundation of the soil, and he doesn't know how long he has wandered the massive ranges of Vórós Khástar, but he does remember the time which he hates the most, and it happened without warning. Suddenly the collosus came falling down towards the earth and upon his landing, a massive cloud came flying out, even blocking the storm for a slight moment. Those who had tripped him were an advanced race amongst the mountains, somehow able to survive and evolve inside the many caves.
For a few hundred years they used his as a source of resources, binding him down with the use of exceptional magic performed on a massive scale, he was unable to do anything but shake them off and kill the occational miner, however he soon gave up, and he quickly became stagnant for he knew that he could not escape, he had seen the ceiling above him be anything from the sky to the darkness of the deepest chasm, and it was here which he was held now.
Deep within the earth, left without a way to move, burried beneath the thick rock of the mountains, the only contact he has with the outside world being the outer most reaches of his fingers. However, even with that. With a single, slight movement of his fingers, he had a host in making. Anything from yet more humanoid being to animalistic beasts under their control, they came quickly to hoard around his fingers, building their cities around them, regularly performing rituals with them.
And it was upon Nal'Oros' realization of this, that he sent out a message, through the simple movement of his fingers, with incredible effort, the Host quickly came to realize his existance, and they befell under his command. Since then they have evolved in ways so that they can converse with their burried God, they would sacrifice their everything so that he would be let out of the ground and displayed to the world, so that he could consume the planes in his icey cold breath.
Armaments:
Well, considering the fact that there are no weapons his size, the best thing he could do is probably pick up something static and use that, however that won't happen.
Abilities:
Even though Nal'Oros was originally fueled by fire and flame in a land of ice and snow, he has long since forgotten that way of life, now he seeks only to quench his thirst for cold vengence upon every and anything he deems unworthy, and through this resolve, he has been able to convert into the icey arts of winterly magic. The old sayings of the plane ''Nal'Oros breath.'', which signifies something cold, is true. He has been able to further strenghten the storm and make it's killing intent greater, amongst others.
