Spiritual (magic) Rank: Conceiver
Biped Syndrome: Yes
Stones ❂: 96.00
This user has no items.
Lithe and youthful build renders the man painted with a tiger's canvas, powerful limbs stilted on a body with broad chest tapering down to muscled haunches. He is a man built for speed and agility, holding his strength in ways seen only in his lean muscle and dominant countenance. Ivandriel embodies masculinity and fiery spirit, standing at 5'10" yet with the way he holds his head high he is often perceived as taller. At the very least to himself. His fur is velveteen, kept as pristine as he can make it as appearances are a heavy influence upon him. Thicker strands curl from his nape and down around his neck, though to many he is far less extraordinary than some that roam the world.
He is simplistic in his coloration, borrowing the palette from a different species than he, swathed in an array of earthly hues. Smooth tan caresses him, cocoa stripes swirling across his back and sides, slashing across his face in acute accentuation. Crisp ivory tucks beneath his stomach and chest, dotting the back of his ears and stretching down his legs in subtle contrast. Golden eyes peer from a soft, angled face, their devious intentions hidden well beneath boyish innocence.
Biped form to be seen, should he survive his symptoms.
A man of many words because he likes to hear himself talk. Though never to the point of being pompous. He is brash at times to the point of being overbearing. He has a sharp tongue and uses it well to get under everyone's skin, to provoke and drive the person mad. He is a definite instigator, and loves to see the world crash and burn around him while he watches on in satisfaction. A master manipulator, by his standards, and good enough with smooth-talking that some do not even like to talk to him.
He loves to throw people off track, and come at them from left field. He likes to watch what makes people tick, what sets their fuse. In turn, he uses that against them just to watch them squirm, or get pissed. He can't help himself. He is intelligent and sarcastic, and loves to over exaggerate things from time to time. He is passionate about the things he sets his mind on, and nothing could shake his grip from that. Determination is the next factor that is dominant within him. If he is dead set on something, he will not let go of it until it is overcome. He is strong in this aspect, though therein lies a flaw. He gets too attached to the task at hand, too obsessive, to the point where failure is simply maddening.
He is not the kind of guy to piss off, either. If you do it is as if every dark thought and being within him rises to the surface like a cornered beast ready to strike and draw blood. He is unfair in his fights, for the most part, and will do anything to gain the upper hand. He hates being belittled, and will not accept defeat in any way. He is vengeful in the way that if he were to be beaten, he will turn around and make sure he gets back at them in the cruelest, most painful way. He is unafraid of guilt, and does not seem to have that feeling at all. If he does, it is buried beneath all of the careless arrogance. Which brings us to our next point; he can be quite egotistical. He denies it in the smoothest way he can, but it is certainly unmistakable. He grows infuriated over time if someone continuously attacks his ego. He has had enough success in his past to let that happen.
Analytical and calculating he rarely goes in half-cocked, save for situations that bring the fire to the surface within him. Genuine curiosity is prominent with him, and he does not hold this particular aspect of him back. Other aspects about him, however, are far less genuine. His heart is guarded close, interest lying in the carnal desires of the flesh as it has proven to be easier to handle than desires of the soul. Because of this he does not reside at the side of any one creature, sampling any and all he can charm his way next to.
He holds his secrets, of that one can be certain. On the outside he is a raunchily charming fellow with a sharp tongue and wit and a knack for humor, but on the inside he is cold and calculating. He is disaster waiting to happen. A lot of his behaviors could be chalked up to his upbringing and trust issues. He does not let anyone close and hasn't felt the desire to. While many might view him as a sociopath he has a few more layers that are hidden well.
Ivandriel was born to a rather religious pack of wolves in a land far from Eshteth. He and his sister, who he still refuses to utter the name of to this day, were the only ones born to their parents. Ivandriel's mother was a healer type while his father was on the main council, so to speak. It was all politics with a heavy dose of religion. The pack, for what it was, worshiped a god Ivan did not in the furthest stretches of the small forest at the base of mountains unnamed and unknown.
Ivandriel had no interest in staying put. He was always on the move. His sister joined him often on his treks through the forest. They would do everything together, for the most part. They learned to hunt together, played together, and when their magic began to manifest the shamans of their ragtag pack took them under their wing to teach them. Ivandriel was always headstrong and stubborn. It was around a year old when he was able to control the element within him and keep it from trying to consume the world around him and expend his energy. His sister was the same way, though she caught on quicker than Ivan.
For the most part everything continued the same way for several months afterwords. Ivan and his sister slipped away from one of the gatherings the pack was holding to praise their god so they could run off into the night. They were confidants, never keeping secrets from one another unless absolutely necessary. Being young and world-deprived they didn't have many to keep to themselves anyways. The energy of the night was alight, humming in the air. The two tore off together, running through the trees and stumbling over one another. They got to sparring and testing out their abilities.
It would just be for a little bit before they returned, they both insisted. Unsupervised by the shamans they knew they shouldn't push their luck. Even still, they could not resist the temptation to play with fire. And it ended in tragedy.
Ivandriel lost control at one point, and a harmless fireball turned into a torrent of flames, too much energy behind it. It washed over his darling sister, engulfing her body in uncontrollable embers. She collapsed to the ground, screaming, writhing, the fur wilting away into ash upon her body. Ivan was in shock, at first. Then he sprung into action, trying to tame the flames but only made it worse. Her screams split his skull, the bloodcurdling sound filling every inch of his body. Her skin was bubbling. Her ears were deforming. Blood was trickling out. Eventually Ivandriel contained the flames, willing them away once he finally focused but the damage was done.
The pack had heard her screams. They were gathered around and Ivan didn't even realize it. His parents pushed him out of the way, hovering over their daughter's charred body. She was still alive, trembling violently and unable to move. Every inch of her body was covered in horrible blisters. Ivan couldn't get the noises from his mind. The smells were still heavy upon the air, churning his stomach. For the next few days nobody asked what happened. They were too worried about stabilizing the young woman. When the shamans and healers failed to do so Ivan's parents turned on him. His mother especially attacked him, wanting to know what happened. He had no words to explain it. After all, it was an accident.
They didn't want to accept that answer. Instead they turned their back on him, poring over his sister until she took her very last breath. Ivan's mother prayed to their god. She stayed with the body for hours before they set her to rest. Her rage turned to Ivan, then. She blamed him. She didn't look at him the same. She was a criminal to him. In her hysteria she struck at him, barely knocking him to the ground when Ivan's father pulled her back. Ivan was instantly furious. He had tried to explain it constantly. He felt his own guilt heavy upon his heart. He already hated himself. He didn't need his self-righteous mother imposing that upon him.
His mother fought with her mate, and said defiantly that she would no longer stay in this pack so long as Ivan was around. She called him a murderer. Ivan was furious at her ignorance. But it didn't matter. In the end he was exiled from the pack. Barely a year old. So he turned his back after he said one final good-bye to his sister. And off he went.
Tearing through the lands he became jaded and a recluse, of sorts. He veered away from using any powers he had, his fear of fire snuffing the element deep within himself. However, he stumbled upon another reclusive and rather strange man. He went by the name of Illex Moriens, a witchdoctor in description but in practice it was far more sinister and odd than that. Illex took Ivandriel under his wing, the two connecting in ways many would deem... unsavory. Ivandriel found him fascinating, his power beyond his imagination and stronger than any shaman in his previous pack. Illex was devious and manipulative in his ways, a snake sliding through Ivan's impressionable mind and coaxing him closer than he should have been. The two shared in more than a teacher and student bond, and such was born Ivandriel's open mind to any and all walks of life when it came to primal desires. The two were inseparable for another year of Ivandriel's life.
That all came crashing down when Ivandriel was awakened one night with Illex in a frenzy. It wasn't a frenzy of fear but one of hysteric amusement. Illex claimed Ivandriel was in danger, caring for the younger man in ways he had never said but shown often through his care of him. He vowed to explain to him one day but urged him to leave and never look back. "I will find you," he said, magic pouring out of him and tugging at the seams of time and space. He created a portal, Ivandriel protesting the action but it was in vain. Forcefully he was shoved into it, sucked into its gravitational pull and whisked off who knows where. Unfortunately, it was not to a safe place on solid ground. Ivandriel found himself in crashing waters, a faint shore on the horizon and he set his sights upon it. And so he found himself upon Eshteth, washed up on unknown shores barely clinging to life.