Perdition Bio's!

[Vale]

Name: Lord Cyrus Valentine
Age: Exists
Weapon: Dementia Magic/Planeswalking Powers
Appearance: This Image:
His age is almost locked at the Mid to Late 20's realm, never truly changing or really even showing the slightest tinge of difference. He does however have what is only described as an "inky tattoo" down his left arm.

Personality:
Cold, Calculating, and above all else, dispassionate with most people he ever truly meets. Although there have been times in which he has shown an interest in other individuals (his wife Teysa, his other wife Malkelia, even his son Sirius) most often this has only been to further his plans of Eclipsing Sanctum--and in turn, bringing rise to the One of the Multiverses Greatest Problems, Darc Cervantes Valentine, the living embodiment of the void. However, after the First Eclipse of Sanctum, and his henceforth "creation" Cyrus has shown some genuine emotions, as him voicing his discontent and outburst of energy at the sight of Teysa being killed at the hands of Sczadek, as well as when he was given the choice of killing Sirius or Kira---and in turn killed both of them instead of choosing. He views most other "living" things as mere tools to further other plans, and in fact keeps everyone like clockwork. One fueling the other after being fueled by another.

"I offer you mercy in exchange for servitude. You will die, and no one will mourn. The choice is your's, serve me in life---whatever is left of it, or serve me in death---whatever I make of it."

History: It's a rather "in depth" storyline for him. Cyrus was created when the Powerful Souls of Darc and Ryta were fused into the Undercity (Void) and In turn, their immense powers were fused into a sentient being made from their stagnated souls---Cyrus. With the will of Darc fueling him, he only designed means to further his "Master's" resurrection. When this failed due to the intervention of his "Second Wife" Kel Fallandire, and his children Sirius and Kira. Not to mention the full intervention of the other Valentines, he was freed from Darc's Control, and discovered a will of his own. As a mark of his sins against the world of Sanctum, the Kernel "chose" him to be it's protector---ever stuck in a paradox of destroying the world, as well as saving it. This is marked by his Ragnarok Tattoo on his left arm. Now he has reshaped Sanctum (after it's prior destruction) into what it is now.

Original RPG: Bastille, The Shadow City/Sanctum, City of Twilight, Shadow Thieves. Has existed throughout each of them.

Extra:
Guardian of Sanctum: Exists to Protect it from any and all outside forces he views as a threat.

Power:
Mastery of Dementia Space and Malice Control----of which a combination of these two powers allows him to create and edit Sanctum as he sees fit. His powers, as of yet, haven't been seen outside of Sanctum.
Fueled by the Stagnant Souls of the Void---making him effectively immortal so long as he chooses to wear the Ragnarok. (Ultimately making him immortal so long as Sanctum, and transversely the Void, exist)

[Gafe]

Name- Irid Valka
Age- 29
Race- Human, normal amount of mixed blood in his ancestry, but looks sufficiently human.

Appearance- The lancer is of an average stature and is leanly muscled. From being out in the sun so much, his skin is very tanned which contrasts against his green eyes, not very nicely. His dark hair is cut short and always ruffled one way or another.
Irid dresses like a soldier from the 3rd regiment, 4th batallion from the city guard of the Kingdom of Andor: His head is protected by an aqua-colored helmet with a flap that falls down until his collarbone, his torso is covered by some layers of armor, including a leather shirt under a chain mail armor under a dim blue plate armor engraved with the symbols of the Andorian crown; his legs are covered by fine, gray chain mail. He also wears iron boots to cover his feet, and large gloves to protect his hands and arms. When he's not carrying a two-handed weapon he carries a navy blue, circular shield with the engraving of a cat, or another feline of the sort.

Personality- Irid is as patriotic as any soldier can truly get with the situation of things. His goal in life is to drive Torik off the Human lands - at least - and bring back the population of persecuted refugees to the saved Andor and make a bigger resistance, or be the biggest support group of the Legends of the Old World. He takes great pride in being decendent of a soldier who bravely died when Torik attacked Andor. He believes in his goals, and has a big spirit for fights. His hopes have risen greatly since he was added to the group of the Myths. According to him, there are many things to be lived in life, and one can experiment a good deal of them in the battlefield.
But he'll never have mercy against a Dread Knight.

History- Irid was born to two resistance fighters that were leading a small group of rebels across the lands, eliminating the most basic, most undertrained minions of Torik. While the group was headed in the direction of the Orcish lands, they were attacked and took serious injuries. Few died, but the whole party was separated, Irid and his parents were left alone with another man; a man that would one day teach Irid the way of the lance.
He grew up normally, but most of the time on the run. His imagination was largely fed by his father, who told him of the time when his great great great grandmother had fought against Torik's first wave of invasions. Sure, she lost her life, but her armour was kept and treasured (his family was as patriotic as he was).
By the time the Legends strolled through the village he was staying in, Irid was travelling alone. Although he would've loved to wear the same keepsake uniform his family had treasured, it was too old and useless. He had a tailor immitate and better it. Dorik was looking for more soldiers at the time and his conviction convinced Irid to join the Legends without a second thought. He was but a common soldier in the ranks of the Legends, and he knew he didn't had what it took to rise in stature. Life as a soldier was harsh, but he accepted it with great pride. And yet. . . Dorik Silverbeard went to him. Irid was to join the Myths. The lancer could accept no higher honor, and accepted without a second thought, but he inquired about his leader's decision.
"The Myths are not a common group of soldiers, Irid, they will be the oil that keeps the machine rolling. A few drops, a few soldiers, and we can proceed smoothly. I chose you, Irid, because of your determination. It alone gives you strength. It alone won't let you fail", the dwarf had told him.

Class and abilities- Irid is a halberdier and therefore very balanced in his abilities. His attack, defense, speed and evasion are almost even. Although, this is not saying they're high. He's a common soldier. As any halberdier, his attacks with the lance (or any pole weapon) are not very powerful - some may even be imprecise - but he can attack several times. He can win a battle against one mage, against several, he is screwed. He can fght two footsoldier at the same time and emerge victorious, but more and he could easily be killed. Needless to say, he needs to work on refining his abilities.

Original RPG: Legends of the Old World

[Gafe]

Name: Dareth
Age: 19
Race: Human. Or at least very.
Favored Fighting Form: Stealth, he uses daggers, throwing knives and stilettos, but daggers are his favorite. Anything that won't cause a commotion falls in the stealth category: poison, ranged kills, etc.
Appearance: Dareth has a tall, lean figure. He seems like the athletic type since he has got some muscle and is fairly slender. His hair is black and it reaches his shoulders, managing to hide his strangely shaped ears in the process. Two notable features in his face are his eyes which are gray and seem piercing and the fact that his head seems to tower above other people's because of his 6'8'' height. Other than that, his pale face holds few out of the ordinary characteristics, as if to hide one, Dareth keeps the lower third of his face underneath old bandages that reach his neck and end at the collar of his dark green, long-sleeved, cloth shirt that covers the scabbard of a pair of bone daggers, each embedded with an emerald. A white leather armor vest sits over the shirt. Finally, heavy boots cover his feet.

Personality: Dareth is quiet, relaxed and calculating, as his job requires him to be. Because of this lack of speech many people never get a chance to know his inner self. Although his calm appearance isn't fake, he does like to spend time with people he finds fun, worthwhile or direct. He doesn't have many friends, in fact, he has had to hide from many of them. While he does like to spread the warmth that sits in his heart, other people don’t seem to trust Dareth completely. This does not, by any means, imply that he won’t get revenge as soon as you try to backstab him or insult him. Dareth knows much of the battlefield and tactics.

History: To be truthful, Dareth remembers little of his past. Almost as if he got amnesia or was hit hard in the head. He does remember the basics, he was born in the northern region of the country on arctic grounds to a family in which he had many siblings. Their faces are all a blur, in fact, all those memories are a blur, he just happened to make sense of some of the less blurry memories. He isn't quite sure of how he got so far away from his homeland, but he's got no way of going back for now. Thats why he's a thief, easy money equals a short time span to buy transportation tickets to his homeland. Maybe, just maybe, once there he'll remember.
Weakness: His memory, his urge to go back to his homeland, and his increasing greed.

Original RPG: Starfish

[Gafe]

ANd more Dareth!

Name: Dareth Raleigh
Age: 18
Special ability: Camouflage
Race: Human, one Andromeda Demon several generations back (the beginning of the first invasion).
Weapons: A large dagger with a side that shreds and another one that slices; and a Colt Python, a .375 Magnum caliber revolver.

Personality: Dareth's personality is somewhat torn. He's a good boy - or as good as boys get these days - that hates suffering and pain. He cares for those he deems as friends and never forgets a friendly face. But his job requires him to change his personality, to be cold, quiet and calculating. He's been faking this behavior for so long that it feels natural now. Dareth doesn't know when to be cold and quiet and when to be more open and friendly, making any sort of relationship hard for him, even job-related relations.

Appearance: [Please note, Dareth's appearance isn't the same he has in 'Starfish'] Dareth's appearance isn't that different from most people's. He has a slender build and stands a couple of centimeters above average height. His skin is tanned from being out in the streets for too much time, his hair is short, and a messy bundle of dark brown, almost black, strands. His eyes should be the only thing revealing others that a demon is one of his ancestors, their color resembles a black pit with a thin, red line appearing on them every several hours.
As for clothing, Dareth wears what he can get his hands on. Usually a pair of very stained jeans, a plain T-shirt, a hoodie and hiking boots.

History: Dareth was born to a poor family. Presumably poor because of the Andromeda ancestor. And although poor, his parents had several children, hoping that one of them would make enough money to take them into a world of riches and luxury. This never happened. Sure, Dareth and his siblings tried all sorts of methods to make money but all they won their parents spent.
Desperate times call for desperate methods and after a series of events Dareth became a thief. A rather lonely one since he decided to do the job only out of necessity, to help his parents.
Then his parents died, his family disbanded and Dareth was cursed to be a theif for life. Or was he?

Other: Dareth doesn't now what to think of demons. They're the bad guys, of course, but given the choice, Dareth wouldn't know whether to kill them or run away. After all, Andromedas are his family. Sort of.

Original RPG: Apocalypse H

[Fallendire]

Name: Malkelia "Kel" Fallendire

Age: 357, though there could be some weirdness due to the timeflow disparity while she was in Elfyria.

Weapon: Brute strength, fangs

Appearance:
(Sorry about the quality. >.<)
Kel is tall for a woman - well, tall for anyone - standing at a formidable 6'2". She is well-endowed, but muscular rather than curvy. Her vampirism gives her milk-pale skin. Her unruly mane reaches down to her shoulderblades and falls messily over her forehead, and it is the signature Fallendire scarlet. Her silver eyes have slitted pupils. With proud, angular features, Kel is attractive, but you certainly wouldn't ever call her "beautiful." She's too feral for that. Her shoulders, neck, and arms are all covered with black tattoos. Though many of them are simply tribal designs or the meaningless results of a drunken dare, she has the names of all her most important lovers somewhere - Lucifer on her upper arm, Cyrus in ornate Gothic lettering between her shoulderblades, Berenaud hidden on her inner wrist. Kel dresses simply, usually in a tank top, work pants, and combat boots, and always in black.

Personality: Kel is, in a word, difficult. She is rude, brusque, pushy, vulgar, self-centred, and a promiscuous alcoholic to boot. Kel is hedonistic to the extreme, and faces almost everything with a languid cavalier attitude. However, she is armed with an explosive, violent temper, and usually turns to force as the solution to all problems she faces. Kel is capable of love and compassion, though she woudn't ever admit it. The only person she's ever shown real affection to is Ermyne, though she does love her husband and even has a grudging fondness for her stepson. In their cases, she subconsciously substitutes feelings of hatred so she won't go insane.

History: To be revealed IC

Extra: Back home in Sanctum, Kel is the Greater Aspect Envy. She can control her own form of Dementia called the Malice.

Original RP: Sanctum Trilogy, Elfyria

[Fallendire]

Name: Ermyne (surname unknown)

Age: Likely 15-17

Weapon: To be honest, Kel. But she also possesses amazing speed and agility.

Appearance: (see shitty pic above) The first thing anyone notices about Ermyne is how unhealthy she looks. She is petite, at 5'1" (optimistically) and sickly thin (she'd be lucky to hit the 85 pound mark). Her bone structure is fragile, with prominent collarbones, shoulderblades, and joints, and very small, delcate features. Ermyne's glossy black hair is cut at an angle, starting at chin length and ending up about five inches above the nape of her neck at the back of her head, where her hair is cut very short. Her large, extremely pale blue eyes are innocent-looking, but haunted at the same time, seeming sad even when she's smiling. They always have violet shadows underneath them. Ermyne dresses in a plain white long-sleeved shirt, left open to reveal that her chest and ribs are bound tightly with ratty bandages, along with slightly torn black pants and simple, sensible shoes.

Personality: Ermyne is a nervous wreck. She stammers a lot, even when she's calm (a rarity), has no self-confidence, and is easily frightened or intimidated. She is a sweet, gentle girl who has a very strong sense of justice and ethics despite her relative innocence, and she is often distressed by her guardian's less-than-ethical behavior. Ermyne is not a fighter and tries to avoid conflict and confrontation at all costs, preferring to give everyone the benefit of the doubt and get along with all. She trusts freely and easily.

History: To be revealed IC

Extra: Ermyne considers Kel almost like a mother or older sister, and trusts completely in her ability to protect her. Though she adores Kel uncoditionally, as she grows stronger and more self-confident she begins to question her caretaker's actions and morals.

Original RP: Elfyria

[Fallendire]

Name: Bexdian XIV

Age: 30

Weapon: Double-ended scimitar, power to create poisons and venoms

Appearance: Bexdian is of average height and rather slim build. She is fairly pale, witth long limbs in proportion to her body and extremely slender, delicate hands. Her sharp, cold eyes are the pale gold colr of champagne, and her thick, glossy dark emerald hair reaches all the way down to her mid-calf. Her pale lips are almost always curled in a disdainful sneer. Bexdian is beautiful, strikingly so, but any time she spends on her appearance is pure fastidiousness, not vanity. The Frenchwoman is always dressed in the Organization's standard hooded, zip-up cloak - hers is tailored in a very slim, form-fitting fashion, much like Axel's, but with dramatically flared sleeves. Underneath, her knee-high boots have modest but shapely heels.

Personality: Bexdian has always viewed life as a scientific experiment: if something cannot be quantified, measured, or analyzed, it holds no interest or use to her. She is always cold, contemptuous, and utterly focused on the job at hand. It may seem that she hates everything that moves and a good deal of things that don't, but that's not true - she hasn't got a heart to hate with. Apparently, however, she doesn't need a heart to consider you a waste of her time (which, in her opinion, most people are).

History: Her Somebody, Deniba, was a Turk of the Shinra corporation, working alongside Reno, Rude, Elena, Tseng . . . and Lumaria, Marluxia's Somebody. Deniba was in love with Lumaria, which accounts for the Nobody's former obsession with Marluxia.

Extra: Bexdian can produce venoms and other chemical compounds directly from her skin, but her skin must be wet to do so. She usually uses saliva or water, but any liquid will do. Also, her skin is continually at least 10 degrees below room temp because the chemical reactions within her body require heat.

Original RP: OXIII:BTH