Raban

[Raban]

RABAN

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Enter the battle, our will to enchain
Bringing us forward, defeating the pain
Into the meeting with swords made of steel
Name: Raban
Nicknames: Little Wolf (though usually only by Ravakla)
Age: 133 (But he appears to in his mid-thirty's, he ages slowly)
Member Group: Knight
Fandom: Original Character


I look through the eyes of the world
I know who's the Stranger among us
Awaiting a sign form above[/size]
Height: 6' 2" (1.88 m)
Weight: 210 lb.
Hair color: Dark brown, almost black
Eye color: Brown
General Appearance: As a human, Raban has a rugged face, worn by battle and experiences. His skin is pockmarked with scars made from battle, including a large one on his upper right arm from where he was bitten. He usually sports stubble on his face and his hair is kept short. His clothing is typically constructed of tunics, chain-mail and his tabard.

In his Lycan form, his height extends to 7' 3" when he stands fully erect but he is usually hunched or stooped. His fur is jet black and is shorter on the chest, shoulders, legs, front of the face, stomach and back with longer fur surrounding the sides of his head, neck, groin, tail and a little around his feet. His ears are alway tall and stand erect near to the top of his skull. His eyes are are a deep amber and whilst they are wolf-like, they seem very human-like at the same time.

His wolf form
Ravakla


Now the time has come to return back home
The setting sun illuminates the dead
The battlefield is shining red [/size]
Strengths: Loyal to honourable causes, defender of the weak, friendly, physical strength, acute senses.
Weaknesses: Prone to brooding, has a habit of trusting too easily, the moon at full strength on the odd occasion where it holds its sway over him.
Fears: The moon, pointy things, letting his darkness over rule his better nature, biting any innocent and breaking his oath as a knight.
General Personality: Raban is someone who will give his life to defend the weak and uphold justice. He is a knight of the old code and so, he will keep to his oath the best that he can. He is steadfast, loyal to a fault and very stubborn to the point where only his demon companion can influence him. When not in battle either by sword or by tooth and claw, he is a warm and friendly individual always happy to engage in conversation.

He doesn't like being alone, so he finds great solace and companionship in having his demon friend around with him for pretty much most of the time. Demon friend not withstanding, he does appreciate being in human company and he enjoys a good conversation, no matter how trivial the subject may have been.

During when the moon is at its strongest however, he actively steers clear of civilisation knowing that there is always a chance of a turn happening without him being able to control what he is. Because of what he is, he knows he's also a dark danger to anyone around him. Whilst he does fear biting anyone and passing on his werewolf venom, he fears anyone of his order, the church or anyone who hates werewolves of finding out his dark identity.

Once he has a person's deep trust, only then does he feel safe and relaxed around them enough for them to know. He is always most loyal to his trusted companion, Ravakla and it is often she who protects him when he is most vulnerable. Their bond is stronger than any other friendship Raban has experienced.

Come across to the Promised Land
Close your eyes, I will take your hand
Through the river of steel we'll go[/size]
Family: His father, Dane and his mother, Audrey used to own and work a farm. He had two sisters, Edlyn died when she was four and Ida died at around 45. As far as he knows, all his family are now dead or unknown.
History:

Raban was born the eldest out of three on a farm. His childhood was a happy one and he lived a life where he dreamed of far-flung places, going out and seeing things no one else had before. His sister Edlyn was always ill and he always did his best to help his mother look after her. This was a task later shared along with the youngest, Ida, but three years later she lost her struggle to survive and died. Raban felt that he had failed to protect her and vowed that he would not do so again.

He got lucky and was later a squire for a Knight after his mentor saw Raban's potential to defend himself. Others had made a mockery of him since he was not of noble birth but Hagen, his mentor, had said it was never birth that made a man strong but the will and strength of one's heart. Raban spent years learning from the much older knight. Despite spending so much time with Hagen and learning how to fight, to write and read and doing all that was to be expected of him as a Knight, he never forgot where he had come from. He would visit home as often as he was able or he would write, talking about what he had done that day or about events.

It was not long after his mother had passed away that he was made a Knight of the Old Code, and he felt that he had achieved his goal. A few years later when he was about thirty-four, thirty-five, his mentor's health began deteriorating. A week later, his old friend had died from natural causes. Needing to find some time to himself, he rode out and made camp in a small woodland copse nearby. Hagen's death, like Edlyn's, had made a hard impact on Raban. They had both meant a great deal to him and had a big part of making him who he was. It was Edlyn who taught him strength, the ability to endure and struggle on. It was Hagen who had taught him the merits of humility, love and loyalty, to stand where others could not.

It was here in this small, nondescript copse when his life would be changed forever. It was a full moon, one of the brightest Raban could ever remember. He hadn't thought much of it then as he went to sleep but as the night drew on, he was woken by shrill cries from his horse. He went to investigate only to find his horse dead and ripped to shreds. The next thing Raban knew, something had leapt out from the undergrowth and brought them to the ground. He had felt pain as the creature had bit him but his training kicked into gear and he managed to kill what had attacked him. However, by then it was too late.

He was now something every human man, woman and child feared. Something the church actively stamped out. The stuff of nightmare's. The first few years were the hardest, whilst he knew what he now was, he had no control and forgot himself. He counted himself lucky that no one had yet killed him by that point but as the years continued, something changed within him. The moon was losing its sway, or hold, over him and he was starting to be able to turn at will.

Something most werewolves could never do.

He left his home town with the excuse of him exploring the world, something his Order accepted but it presented him with an assurance that there would not be much to hurt as he ventured further into countryside. It was on this excursion that he met who would then become a lifelong companion for the rest of his life.

He had heard cries from something in distress. Always one to help where help was likely needed, he went to investigate only to find that it belonged to a horse. She had become stuck in a peat bog and was unable to get herself free. If he had been any normal man, he would not have been able to help the shire get free but his strength as a lycan, as he called himself, allowed him to exert enough leverage and brute force to get her moving out of the bog to the point of her being able to do the rest.

She revealed to him after him freeing her from the muddy trap that she was not a standard horse but a fire demon trapped in the body of a 17hh Shire mare. She had explained that she communicated via telepathy, that she could become fire in the shape of a horse but it was at half the strength she would have been if she was free from her bonds as a equine. Her name was Ravakla and she vowed that she would stand by him and protect him in return for him saving her life.

Since then, time passed and months turned into years and then into decades. By the time he reached a grand old age of a hundred, his family had died or he had forgotten the relations. He had long since just resorted to only going by his first name. Whilst Raban's dark secret, and that of Ravakla's, remained exactly that, he was renowned for defending the weak and upholding the might, protecting innocents from hostile forces that threatened to undo the fabric of justice.

It was not long before they were to find themselves in a different world however, soon seeing things he knew were not of any known technology of his time.

Silent lies Eden on top of the moor
We're fighting with honor protecting our lord
The last one survivor lies bleeding, I kneel[/size]
Your name: Kat
Other Characters: None yet
Passphrase:
Song chosen for application and artist: The Dragon Lies Bleeding - Hammerfall
Roleplay Sample:

'I do not see how that frightens you, little wolf'

Ravakla, or Chestnut to any mortal man in earshot, was not a creature of any tact. If anything, she was downright blunt and brutally honest. Her emotions lay on a single thread, a cauldron that often boiled and sometimes Raban felt that quite literally. It was any one's guess why he hadn't roasted yet but unfortunately at this passing, she was quite right, and being right was something she was very good at.

"I'm not little," he retorted in dislike but it was a nickname by her that she often used. She knew what he was, had sensed it even before he deemed her trustworthy to know which was why, he had supposed over the many years that they got on so well. They both had something in common and they could not live without the other these days.

"And I'm not anymore. I was six, a charging bull is very scary at that age," he added as horse and rider travelled through a sparse woodland, following a trail of autumn leaf litter. He could smell everything and hear everything, it was almost enough to drive him mad but it was something he had learned to live with by now. Once bitten, there was never going back. Not unless he was willing for his head to be removed from it resting place on his shoulders. That would not do at all.

'I can't imagine it, at all,'

That was another point about Ravakla that sometimes served to both amuse and to annoy. She had very little to no imagination whatsoever. But elemental demons such as herself rarely had much need for much in the way of imagination. They used the imagery of their element and that was pretty much all they had. Being a fire demon, she was testy and easily bad tempered if rubbed the wrong way. He had learned long ago that just because she was trapped inside a horse's body didn't go to say she was any less dangerous. Shire horses could pack a horrible kick that could easily break bone.

"It would be the same if I was a mouse before you. You'd be pretty scary from that perspective,"

'You? A mouse?' She gave a snort, smoke rising from flaring nostrils, 'You're too much of a lion to be that small, little wolf' and she whinnied with amusement, clearly finding her won statement rather funny. Raban found her sense of humour a little hard to follow sometimes.

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[Krissy]