The Dawn Hunter :: Donagh, High Council Elf, as promised

Player Information:
Name: Lucky =3
E-mail: Layneepup@aol.com
AIM: Layneepup


Character Information:
Name: Donagh Caine Aurora || Define; Warrior of God, Hunter of Dawn
Alias: Dawn Hunter || Warrior || Caine || Donagh {Dough-naw-g }
Gender: Male
Age: 7,092
Race: Elf
Allegiance: Classified

Region: Everywhere

Weapons: The Staff of Elves- A long piece of yew, crowned with an orb of truth, interlaced with silver, gold and gems. When used by the High Council Elf, it triples magically as a staff, sword, and bow.
Potent Magic of Past- Magic of supreme authority, demands respect. He can create almost anything out of the air around him, as well as shape-shift into any animal he has seen.
Dragon- His most trusted advisor, ruthless and domineering

Occupation: Elven Representation in the High Council
Powers: Reincarnation- To bring back that which has passed on for a brief period
Conjure- The ability to create almost anything out of magic
Transformation- Allows him to morph into any animal he has seen

Description:
Before His Promise To Father
After Promise to Father-- In Armour

Imposing and regal, the Dawn Hunter is a creature of obscure appearance. He takes his traits from the forest things that empower him- being an elf of many faces. His nose is the sharp arch of a Wolf’s claw, straight and triangular while his eyes are thin and probing, like the sly optics of a fox. Rabbits lend him their long ears, facilitating his skill of possessing the best hearing of any known elf and his thick lips and drooping smile come from the forever scowling fish. Pallid skin originates from the undercoat of a dove, and his elegant movements from those of a deer. His posture is the proud stance of a lion, his tall form the result of the tree blood he shares. Golden hair, as bright as lightning, is a result of the pale flowers that shelter beneath his mighty shadow, his muscles credited to the strong will of the nettles and briars. The deftness of his hands is supplied by the clever raccoons, the death glare allotted by the dragon. All things spawned by the sun are his children, and being so he carries a sliver of each of them in himself. But some traits are his own, such as the alarming yellow color of his eyes, the sharp V of his eyebrows and the ampleness of certain organs. He is, for certain, a puzzle of an elf to look at, but not many receive such a pleasure. For you have to be a member of the Council or about to die if you wish to ever lay eyes on his glory. The others, the rest see only a glamour, a mask.
The Warrior can usually be found wearing beautiful crimson clothes, a mark of the blood he has shed as a hunter and fighter, embroidered with gold and silver thread to show his rank. When hunting, he has a unfeasibly light cloak the color of fresh moss; when fighting, he wears the traditional armor of past Elves on the Council. He wears brown moccasins of silence upon his peculiarly small feet, and upon his hands he wears enchanted green gloves, fastened with magical gems and precious stones. His garments all reek of wealth and subtle arrogance, but not to an insufferable extent.

When wearing the traditional white robes of the council, he is tall and imposing, like the moon. This alter ego, if you will, allows him to separate his normal being into the extraordinary thing he has to become when with the council and in times of war. Battling, he wears the Ancient Armour of Elves, with a helmet of impenetrable platinum shaped as the skull of his father with massive diamond eyes. He wears matching gloves with little claws on them, and the rest of his fighting attire is made up of magic woven chain mail and more platinum. When in battle, the Dawn Hunter is the twin color of his dragon. So, by duty he is the moon and by leisure the warmth of midday, a side not often seen, but he possesses no beauty of dawn, its sky tainted with pink he cannot make it bleed.

Personality: The Dawn Hunter is a proud father of all things fertile and living, and such a high position has given him reason to be arrogant and fastidious. He is, certainly, but his lack of ignorance balances out these rather unpleasant characteristics. His respect is only to those he has created and the noble, heroic members of the Council; all others have to prove themselves many times before receiving recognition in his eyes. He is overprotective of his race, often taking offense at thoughtless comments made by other Council members. Be that as it may, he is levelheaded, but prefers to muse for only days before reaching a conclusion to the toughest of problems. Although slightly irking, this process of pondering has saved his race from conflict many times, as he has only been able to defeat opposition with his haste. Certain ideas that may seem negligible in the eyes of others hold an evident depth in his own mind, taking on a new dimension, new risks and new benefits. Everything must be thought over, however quickly.

Caine is intellectually sharp, often setting friend against friend if he concludes it is for the better, just by means of his words and expressions. Being so, he has turned indifferent to the anger of others as long as he is doing what is best for his race. He has many lovers, all bearing children with his haughtiness and skill. It is the Warrior’s greatest desire to marry Skadi. She is the only woman who can stand up to him, and being so, his respect for her is extensive. Some say that a marriage to her would be the only thing to thaw his cold heart, frozen by knowledge and despair, but it is not known for certain.

History: He was born to be a Council Elf, like his father before him. The noble blood raced through his veins at such an early age that even as a tot he began to show promising traits of a leader. He was calm in playtime and vicious on the hunt. As a child, he caused girls to swoon and mothers to gossip. He could herd livestock and pound out swords, talk to forest animals and apprentice the herbalist. It seemed he was the perfect child, obedient, obviously the next council representative. However, what was hidden to the elves of his village was that perfection was an imperfection in itself. He was too amazing, he was too powerful. It attracted unwonted and unwanted attention.

When the Dawn Hunter was nearing 100, dark Giant Wolves attacked his town. His mother and sisters were slaughtered as well as all his neighbors. His father, who was at a Council meeting, rushed home to find his son kidnapped and his wife bleeding to death in their hut, his fifth child lying unborn next to her, ripped from the womb. He tore at the sky with the anger of a man in shame and the thunderclouds answered, smiting the ground around him with swift lightning. At first, they thought it was the controller of the weather, grieving with him, but she had sent no such storm.

Donagh was held captive in a Wolf den, forced to fight against their enemies with his magic and bow. He murdered innocent Wolf pups by their word, and it was this that broke their rule over him. He refused to kill another pup and they bared their teeth and gnashed them but did not touch him. It was around this time he learned his father had saved the life of their leader, and they could smell his blood in Donagh’s veins. They dared not hurt the kin of their leader’s savior, and so Donagh took control. He forgot his disgust by their actions and immersed himself in their society. Soon, he found that the power in his past allowed him to do peculiar things and he took great pleasure in shape-shifting into the form of his new followers. Unknown to him, barely an adolescent, these Wolves were evil, and so as a Wolf they poisoned his mind until when he slipped back into the Elf body they had ensnared his mind. He lived beside them for many years, transforming into a fertile teen and impregnating many of the Wolf bitches while in their form. His offspring had the strength of their mother but the elven wit of their father, and gradually the Wolf pack began to look more like an army. Under Donagh’s hand, or mostly paw, as he spent more time in his Wolf shape, they took over but never harmed smaller wolf packs until Darkness reigned their part of the Giant Wolf territory. At this point, I would like to say Donagh had realized the error of his ways by helping the Wolves, and many thought he had. He disappeared.

But he had only gone to explore the rest of the world. In the Wolf form, he could run faster and longer than his strong elven kin, and so he saw more and more. As new experiences became his past, he found he could transform into more and more creatures. After this discovery came a greater one; he could create something out of nothing. Granted, once I say he created something out of nothing, that nothing became something, but this sort of logic is besides the point. The POINT is that he became more powerful, but without the Wolves muttering evil into his mind, he finally DID realize how misguided he had been. He wandered day and night until he came across, by pure chance, his father. The Elf recognized the power glowing in a creature’s eyes, and when he blinked, the creature had gone and there stood his son. He wasn’t skinny and young, as one would expect, but wise and strong, like the creatures whose bodies he had imitated. When he informed his father, then going by the calling Glowing Star, that a murk pack was gaining power, they rounded up a band of mercenaries. To make up for his mistakes, Donagh accompanied his father, blinded by rage against the creatures who had stolen and then misused his son, to take care of the Wolves. He thought they would just be disbanding them, but their power was too great. The males were slaughtered and the females and pups left to chose different packs. Glowing Star was proud of his son for saving the forest from the Pack, but Donagh felt like a traitor.

Although he only realized it at the age of about 5,000, Donagh’s father had then put a spell on him. He lost all emotion, growing as fierce as his father. Glowing Star’s mind had been invaded by darkness ever since the murder of his wife, and although he tried to convince himself otherwise by killing more and more things that had converted to darkness, he was still growing into a Murk. Donagh realized this at the rip age of 333 and promptly imprisoned his father. A substitute had to be introduced to the council, and for a while, Donagh could rest easy. Still under his father’s spell, he worked hared and did more than mortally possible; some suggested he was magic incarnate. At 1,000 exactly, a monumental age, Donagh went to visit his father and found he had escaped his prison, leaving destruction in his wake.

To make a long story short, Donagh hunted down his father, fought in a gigantic battle which was his father and (ironically) the Murk Wolves versus Donagh and the Bryte Wolves. The war was a small one but Donagh led his army well and found his first victory. At the end, his father found him and muttered crazily about the ending of the world. Donagh, who was glowing like the sun in his golden Armour, was doomed to die, Glowing Star said, if he didn’t leave the sun behind. Although delirious, he kept pleading his son to promise to shed the sunlight, and it was when Donagh promised that he died, gasping, oily black blood escaping his lips that were curled into a smile. His sun was to hunt the Dawn and kill it in the name of God. It was his name, it was his destiny. He was to destroy the dawn so the sun could never rise, and with it, he would destroy the peace so that the tension of the world could forever be settled as dark faced light at a time where both ruled; night. Where the moon showed bright and the sky black, where they were equal. Although Donagh believed none of the prophecy, he had made the promise and took on the name Dawn Hunter. No longer could he be associated with his father or the Wolves, he reasoned, and so Donagh was dropped from his vocabulary.

Now, we must understand that the Dawn Hunter was not exactly dark, like his poisoned father, but not exactly light either. He had fought in the name of both causes and found neither suited him, so he became Twilight instead, the ultimate neutral of light and dark. He fought for the Bryte side sometimes the Murk others, all the time learning and shape shifting and honing his skills. For about 3,000 years more, until he was 4,005, he did nothing but train himself and battle. Blood was his wine and fear his bread. He grew into a fierce general and grew to be highly respected. No one was quite sure of his alliance but he was a man of his word and diligently hunted the Dawn as well as any who stood in the way. He realized in the thousands of moments he lived that fighting for himself was not enough so he fought in the name of Elves. Noble, yes, but not exactly Bryte or Murk. He seemed to be perfectly balanced and each that knew him waited with baited breath to see what would tip the scale and throw him to one side or another. So far, it is unknown if he has chosen a side, but he seems to be poised precariously. He was given the name Warrior by the Elf substituting for him (now that his father was dead) in the council.

Skipping ahead again and glossing over some interesting but not too important battles where all that basically happened was the Dawn Hunter won and made people happy and the Council proud and all that jazz. Whatcha really want to know is how he got his dragon, and I’m getting there. First, though, like almost all other elves, he had seen an oracle who basically informed him what he already knew: he would represent and protect his race, neither Murk or Bryte until some catastrophe forced him one way or another and then his sword would flash and the Earth would grieve as blood rolled down like rain. The last part spooked him out a bit, but he was almost 5,000 years old then and he was determined to be brave. She sent him on a quest to the mountains, to find a rare herb for her in exchange for her to dive deeper into his future.

He had shape-shifted into his favorite for, a Giant Wolf, and was sniffing the plant out when a dragon swept down and grabbed him, intending to eat him for lunch. The great scaly thing was surprised indeed when the Dawn Hunter transformed into a Kraken, a giant sea monster he had encountered, and weighed the drak down. Changing into an elf, he had earned the respect of this beast who allowed him passage to her ice nest where he selected the largest of her eggs to raise. Almost as soon as he touched the mythical beast’s egg, the casing crackled and Feral was born. He was a beautiful male, with almost fifty-feet of wing when first hatched. He was covered in spikes and cruel scales that glistened. He promptly ate his new Master and flew him to the bottom of the mountain, regurgitating him easily. The Dawn Hunter was now encased with the nectar of Dragon, for it ran freely through the beast that had carried him like a baby down the mountain. His skin toughened and glowed, attracting the eye of almost every creature around.

He soon learned that this was a Princely dragon and their bond strengthened. A prince had chosen, by hatching at his touch, a life with him rather than ruling his kin. The Dawn Hunter and Feral grew inseparable, spending the next thousand years training together and becoming one. I could explain all the lovely details of their adventures and how the Dawn Hunter almost killed dawn but was held back by his love for a beautiful mortal but this History is already almost 3 pages on Microsoft Word and I’d imagine you’re getting bored. So basically, he had disappeared after leaving the wolves, the council had no idea what had happened to his father, he began fathering all sorts of creatures until almost everything was his kin and owed him a debt, and at about 6000 years of age he returned to the council to find it shattered. Only Skadi was there, the beautiful temptress, and he was forbidden to reveal to anyone the reason for the crumbling of the council. He immediately took his rightful position in the council, Feral backing up his word with a snarl. He has been a heroic advocate for Elves’ rights, and is known all over the world as a ruthless fighter, amazing magician and eager lover. Dare not shun him, for although you barely know anything about his amazing battles because I was too lazy to detail them, he will certainly overpower anything you throw at him, or die trying.


Other: Douagh seems to be a bit power-hungry and vindictive, but he is only so towards a threat or enemy. I’m sorry if that wasn’t clear, but I wanted to show he has amazing judgment but isn’t likely to get chummy with you quickly. And, uh, I’m sorry for the length. I really had fun with the history. ^^

Sample Role Play: ((ooc\\ Not to be obnoxious and all rule-breaking, but after the history, my hands are killing me. So I’ll catch up on this, or you could just look at Avidan, my lovely first charrie.))

Holy granola bars batman! That was fan-fricken-tastic!! I loved it. This is so going in the spotlight!

ACCEPTED!

You totally rock...hehe...and he likes the skadi....which is also awesome...and don't worry about sample roleplay...I know you can rp. And it was not boring at all...I enjoyed it much.

Hope to rp with this charrie soon