Arakkscius

Character Name: Arakkscius
Alias/Nickname: Racsus, Ara
Gender: Male
Race: Dragon
Age: Unknown. Stopped counting after the first millenia or two.
Faction: Civilian
Level: 0

Eye color: Red
Hair color: Red
Appearance: Arakkscius is tall, around 6'5. He's got long red hair and crimson eyes that stare deep into your very being. His build is muscular but not overly so, definitely athletic and has a barely touched white skin that hints at a tan. The dragon often grimaces, rarely smiles, always has a somber expression, and wears clothes he can move easily in. He prefers black clothes or even full blown armor but that would be strange in a city so he settles for long sleeves most of the time and tight jeans, pants, or occasionally, shorts. He has something close to T shaped markings below both of his eyes. They are reddish. Black horns protrude from the dragon's head and curl with his cranium. They do not get in the way much but can easily be called fake body mods if he needs to. Sometimes, when he is actually relaxing, Ara actually wears a t-shirt.

Personality: Arakkscius can easily be considered a stoic sort. He doesn’t speak much most of the time but when he really finds people he clicks with, he can have a lot to say. It doesn’t mean that what he says will always be important but it does mean that he can be a chatterbox if he really wants to. The dragon has had a lot of years to perfect the art of patience. Raksus rarely, if ever, becomes angry. He does become agitated at times but anger is something he rarely feels. He might be disappointed in people for letting down his expectations though. This dragon also has a mercurial view of the world and morality. Give him a good enough reason to change sides or to even join in on the fight and he will gladly do so. His passionless existence has been going from one side of a war to another. He cares about traditions but also feels as though one should not always look to the past for an answer. The way one lives is their choice and that is what he firmly supports. As the years tick by, he finds less and less things to be interested in. Though he is not suicidal by any means, he also cares little for his own life. Sorrow follows him everywhere and it is present in most interactions with him.

Once upon a time, his greatest fear was losing someone he loved. That had gone and now his greatest fear is loving another just as deeply. He fears finding a reason to live. A reason to fight. A reason to hope. Someday, he knows he will have to face that fear and accept it, but for now, he lets it be.

He likes to relax at the dawn and the dusk to watch the days and night shift. They resemble an endless cycle of deaths and rebirth for him. He prefers tea to coffee, fruit to vegetables, meat to anything else. Blue, red and yellow are his favorite colors, lilies are his hated flowers, the taste of poisonous hydrangeas make him smile, and the delightful smell of a freshly made crepe sends him tot he heavens.

History: The gods only know how old he is. he was born a very long time ago and years have ceased to matter much to him beyond his first millennium. His parents had met and mated producing offspring. His father, he vaguely remembered was present in the household for a good deal of time. Though he does not remember much of his younger years anymore, he has the feeling that he loved his parents. His mother is a completely blank memory save her favorite flowers matching his own. Perhaps that was why he loved them so.

He grew up not as an only child but as the eldest in five. His siblings had always been his responsibility once he had been old enough to watch over them and so it had become natural to be nurturing toward them all. This attitude followed him through his life and into his friendships as well as any serious relationship. He was fairly picky about those that he chose to associate with, this much he knew but as most of his friends are now dead, he remembers very little of how or even when they had become friends. This was not because he did not care about them enough so much as he had received one too many hits on the head since.

Arakkscius was a soldier when he was older. He fought in war after war for a variety of reasons. Sometimes just to release aggression, sometimes for money, and very rarely, because he believed in the cause itself. The dragon met his wife some time after a war and they settled down together. he still fought but far less frequently. She was his everything. She encompassed his life and gave it meaning. Yet she had been taken from him in a terrible accident and he lost not one but two family members. After that he became a recluse for many decades before finally venturing back into the world. But he was no longer what he was. His perspective had completely changed and now he floats through life with no aim.


Weapon: Tier 0 sword

Job Items: 25 ft of paracord, contigo bottle with water, Cellphone, A deck of tarot cards, gaft tape, pocket watch (doesn't work anymore), 3 snack bars, a book, playing cards, notebook, pens, Driver's license, messenger bag, lighter, pack of glowsticks

Money: $25





Your Alias: Tox, Toxiic
First Account: Arakkscius | Raksus
Second Account: If you have a second account, please put the name here, otherwise put N/A
Third Account: If you have a third account, place the name here, otherwise put N/A

You were here for what seems like a split second. Goodbye