+ N O V A K +
+ 228 - years - old || Elven/Dryad || Male +
|| Homosexual - Uninterested - 0x ||
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Novak stands at 6'3 ft. with a thin, but lean, almost dancer-like, physique. He inherits his looks from his deceased dryad mother, amber eyes and shock of medium, messy auburn hair. Novak gets his facial features, a gaunt structure with carved cheekbones and a strong jawline, from his deceased Elven father.
He owes his survival to his attire. His black boots, dark pants, and black shirt are average, but his black coat that falls to his knees holds secrets that goes beyond what anyone can imagine. Countless pockets line the inside on his long coat, only he knows what is inside each pocket. Inside one of his sleeves is a switchblade and the other are lined with darts around his wrist. On his belt are a few throwing knives, a dagger, and a one-handed sword. His boots have a retractable blade at the tip of his toe. Novak is practically a walking arsenal.
Despite the weaponry he carries, Novak isn't one to start fights. The only weapon he uses when needed is his sword. He is a kind, and gentle soul that attempts to befriend anyone he meets, unless they show malice first. He enjoys the company of others, as long as it lasts, but he doesn't feel lonely when he is generally alone, an ambivert is a suitable title to describe him.
On could say he has a hero complex. Novak tries to do the right thing in any situation, going out of his way to help anyone who's peril. Whether they want his assistance or not, he's a samaritan and will aid those despite their permission.
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Novak was born and raised by Dryads, tree nymphs that live deep within the forest. As a young boy, he wondered why he didn't have a tree of his own to reside in like his mother and the other nymphs. His mother, with vibrant red hair and gentle amber eyes, promised to tell Novak when he was older. When he was around eight, a lone campfire in the woods grew larger as it swallowed up dry grass, becoming a bonfire that engulfed the forest and killed his mother and the other dryads. Traumatized and alone, Novak would sit in the ashes and dead branches where the only family he knew. A few days later, his father appeared, a tall Wood Elf with dark brown eyes and burnt umber hair tied up in a small ponytail, with a shadow growing along his jawline and cheeks.
Taking in his only son, he taught Novak how to hunt and fight the mythological creatures that preyed on the defenseless, making him fight the small ones on his own, from harpies to hellhounds, until Novak was ready to fight the big ones, like chimeras and cockatrices. He taught Novak everything he needed to know about weapons, and how to value life in all its forms. As an instructor, he was strict and rigorous, there was no room for error, but as a father, he was gentle and a storyteller, telling young Novak Greek tales and epics orally, just as his ancestors have done for many generations.
One day, his father and him went to hunt elk for food, the clouds that shrouded the sky that day were thick and allowed little to no sunlight to filter through. The forest grew darker as the day progressed, blood dripping from the elk they had slaughtered. The scent attracted a monster that Novak was nowhere near ready to face, let alone his father. The two froze as the earth shook beneath their feet, growing in intensity until the monster finally appeared from the darkness.
The Hydra crept out from the shadows, all six of its heads baring their fangs. Out of fear, Novak's father told him to run, the opposite of what he taught him. Novak was frozen in fear, until his father shoved him to remove him of his trance. So he bolted, running as fast and as far as his legs could carry him. His father wasn't too far behind, yelling at him to keep running, to not look back no matter how crucial the reason. The thunderous stomping of the Hydra fast approaching mimicked how hard his heart had been pounding in his ears. Then, all of a sudden, the stomping ceased, but Novak kept running, doing as he was told until his legs gave out and his chest heaving for air.
Frantically, he pressed his back to a tree, catching his breath as he glanced at every direction around him. The Hydra was nowhere in sight, nor was his father. Fear clenched his chest, wide-eyed and quivering, hesitation made his feet feel like bricks as Novak began to walk back. There was an eerie silence throughout the forest, the trees were still and the creatures had hushed. Eventually the scent of blood thickened the air as Novak drew closer, droplets of blood here and there were forming bigger pools until he saw what remained of his father.
An arm detached from the body, the hand still gripping the hilt of the sword in its palm.
The trauma struck young Novak like a bolt of lightning. He didn't know what to do, where else to go, or who to turn to. Novak wept and grieved that night, losing both of his parents at the age of fourteen. From then on, he started his life as a wanderer, Novak attempted to settle in different families in different villages, but his Dryad blood made him connected to the forest. Some families tried to force him to stay, while others thought him merely as a traveler. Each family taught him life lessons that inspired him to live out, however one family Novak resided with, changed his life forever.
It was in a village, perched high up in the mountains, a blacksmith saw twenty year-old Novak wielding his father's sword at his belt and offered to sharpen it for free. He was a short, tan, built man, wearing ragged clothing and an apron covered in patches of soot. His face was too, wrinkled with crow's feet around his eyes, and red as a tomato from crafting axes in high temperatures. As he did, the two had a discussion, the usual question was brought up, of course.
"You look a little too young to be travelling on your own."
Novak would hide the fact that he was part Elven and Dryad, explaining his past to the blacksmith as if Novak were from a village miles away. After his explanation, the man offered Novak to stay with his family for however long he wished before a customer took the blacksmith's attention away. He asked his son to finish sharpening the sword for him and keep Novak company. It was right then and there, Novak felt something strange bubbling in his chest when he saw the blacksmith's son, anxiety that just erupted from nowhere, but he couldn't take his eyes off of him. His name was Lance. He had light tan skin, short brown hair, and blue eyes. He was slender but muscular, and he too smelled of soot, but his charming smile shined through.
The next few weeks, Novak taught Lance where and how to hunt instead of buying from a butcher. He showed Lance how to skin a deer, and in return Lance showed Novak how to sharpen all sorts of blades and how to maintain. Novak told Lance many Greek epics in the middle of the night whenever neither could fall asleep. A few years had passed, Lance treated Novak like a best friend and a brother, as did Novak in return, but he wanted them to be something more. People always asked if he ever "found himself a girl", and he never felt that lust other men felt over women, but for some reason, Novak felt that attraction toward Lance. It was different, it felt weird to him, but it also felt pleasant.
One day, Novak decided to confess his feelings, but just as he was about to, he saw Lance flirting with a girl. Another feeling bubbled in his chest, except this wasn't as pleasant. No, it was an avalanche of anger, sorrow, distrust, and regret that came all at once as Novak crept away. He wept silently to himself in the small bedroom he was living in, but then Novak had an epiphany. He wrote down on a piece of parchment what he was about to do and the feelings he had for Lance, packed a few items, slid the note under Lance's pillow, and left the village. After the realization of his attraction toward men, Novak convinced himself he was destined to remain a solivagant.
Two years after the curse (see below), Novak crossed paths with a witch named Circe Seraphim. She appeared as a girl, wearing ragged clothes and a witches hat too large for her head that it covered her entire face. Circe happened to be blind, and a monster lingering around by the name of Onyx, he has the skull of a deer with ten point antlers, and his body is made out of roots and bones. The monster serves as her eyes, and sometimes joins Novak when he is sent to fetch a rare ingredient for a spell, leaving the Nightwing Territory for several months on end. As a gift to help Novak in his endeavors, Circe gave him a special coat that has countless pockets lining the inside.
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The Curse
When Novak was about twenty-six, a beautiful maiden crossed his path. Smooth golden locks poured down to her hips, her frame was thin as a twig, and her irises were a piercing blue. Her pale skin was radiant, wearing no clothing what so ever, and sweet, enticing musk came off of her figure. She spoke in a suave manner, attempting to seduce Novak with her body and gentle touches. All the while, he was incredibly uncomfortable. Novak gently pushed her hand away and refused, walking right past her. The woman was persistent, as was he in refusing, but then suddenly the woman erupted with anger. It seemed no one had ever refused her offer, and for good reason. The woman peeled off her skin like a shell, only to reveal she was the goddess, Aphrodite. Yet, this still had not changed Novak's mind. Enraged and humiliated, Aphrodite confronted Zeus about the matter, ranting about how strange it was that a mortal refused her offer. She pressing Zeus about this issue so much that he came down in a mortal form and confronted Novak, cursing him to Earth's surface for all eternity, but also did not allow him to age either. Zeus had solved the problem by making an immortal refuse Aphrodite's offer, and so Novak would look twenty-six forever, despite his age.
This was both a blessing and a curse, he was a bystander during a war between a draconian empire named Nightwing and a power-hungry group of hitmen that called themselves The Warlord Army.He witnessed the deaths of both dragons and people, and saw in turn how it affected others. Novak created a pact of refugees from either side called The Templar Army, the name was more or less a misnomer. The group was to keep the refugees safe from whatever ties they still had from the armies they belonged to. Once the war ended, the refugees felt no need to remain under protection and The Templar Army disbanded. Novak did not try to persuade them back, the refugees came to him, so they could leave whenever they wished.
Over the years, his immortality gave him the power to embrace the loneliness instead of letting it crush his other emotions. People have came and left from his life, and Novak has learned to cherish the memories of the company he has been around rather than allow negative emotions twist his thoughts and actions as they had done once before.
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R U L E S
- 18+, expect gore
- Godmod and I'll godmod back.
- The thoughts and feelings of the character do not reflect my own.
- OOC speech will be done either in ( parenthesis) or [ brackets ].
- Novak is based off the lore of the Percy Jackson series and The Sister's Grimm series, if you would like to add anything into the plot from either book series, feel free to do so.
- Have fun
Comments
Mrow
ALL YOUR PAGE ARE BELONG TO VLAD
The tension went amiss, for a moment or so after he felt eyes upon him. So deep in his thoughts, it was a sinkhole he knew best not to stand in for long. The distance to his stare vanished as he seemed to come back from it in time to see Novak approach. His hands left his hair soon after. He knew where it was going. Spencer’s expression was a tad apologetic to the fact as the other joined him.
To the first parts of his consolation, he merely stared back. People had died. He couldn’t stop each face that would pass him by inevitably. He knew this, by now. It did little to stop the sinking feeling in his chest no matter how far time moved on without him. What was to follow brought a blank look across Spencer’s face that was seemingly rare. For the brief amount of time the hug was given, he leaned into it. The lost look in his eyes diminished and he looked toward Novak afterward.
“I need to know why.” He uttered agreeingly under his breath. There were hundreds of years of strain put upon the fact, coming out in his tone as something restless. Silver hues dropped to the ground before them, and yet again, as if it would reset what had run through his mind, his hand swept his hair back again. He drew in and out a heavy exhale before speaking. “Thank you… really. And you are right. We have little choice, now… but a deity of death is a lead far more than what I have. Through fate or reluctance.”
His thoughts trailed off long after his words had. Would there be a time when he would learn to shut them off? Spencer hoped so. They had not the time for meditation nor dawdling now. Contemplating the decision, he gave a light shrug of his shoulders. “I need little rest. I would be fine with leaving just as long as our newfound friend is in agreement.” One glance went back to the horse that was tethered, seemingly minding its own and taking advantage of the grass. He then looked back to the other. “And you? Are sure you are alright?” He questioned once more.
Silver hues were peering down thoughtfully from the odd angle at which Novak would witness it. Concern laced itself through his expression, something grave in the look that had settled on his face. A streak of ash from the debris above one of his cheeks which he would attend to later. “You will be alright,” Spencer questioned subtly once more as he repeated the man’s words. Regardless of his worry or suspicion over the matter, when Novak turned himself around he was set at ease enough to turn his attention to the makeshift camp.
The bow and quiver were set down, as were his cloak and bag, set aside as he worked to clear the space for a fire. Branches were gathered meagerly to get it going, beginning to break and stack what he had in order to create the base for it. Routine, yet something distant. In a territory where he knew of his surroundings, slowing down for a night was hardly a thought. It was now. As Novak passed by, up on his feet once more, Spencer made acknowledgment as he passed. His eyes cast towards the fire he was keen on setting as he held a hand outward to it. Uttering a single word under his breath, a minuscule stream of smoke would rise.
“I am not supposed to be here.”
Spencer spoke suddenly from his silence. He remained crouched as he watched the fire rise little by little, trying to find life in what he had assembled. “My existence, I have never known how, or why… but I cannot overlook it. People are being injured.” His lips pursed. Sitting back, his fingers ran through his hair with an exhale. “I know not what else they want of us.”
// Sure! ^w^
// Up for writing with me?
A quiet breath of relief came when the arrow hit its mark, the second beast going down not long afterward. Coughing to the smoke that fought to fill the air, his eyes glanced about to the region. Perhaps it could have been combatted… perhaps more would inevitably be on their tail soon to come. When he heard the sound of hooves, his eyes snapped quickly in the direction of the horse. Fortunate to see the creature he had hoped for rather than the hound he more so feared. To heat, cold, he generally found himself numb to their presence. The warmth of it, however, was creeping inward just as the flames were.
They were at odds. The concept of staying behind was infeasible. When the horse came to stop, the bow was pulled over one shoulder blade, the spent arrow left behind by time sake. Holding on as they took off, the air slowly but surely grew clearer once again, smoke leaving his lungs as did the scene of horrors behind them.
His eyes were cast forward, then. Glancing off from Novak’s shoulder, where the trees eventually regained their life. Spencer was little of an empath, and yet, he could sense a certain lifelessness to the other even as they vacated the space. There was no time to stop for recovery. Not until they had put distance in place. Something of relief came when the horse slowed its course, the animal’s peace of mind taken as a good sign for his own. Until…
“Novak!?” Spencer shouted when the horse’s head suddenly came to view, watching the man drop off to the side. He was quick to follow. A leg was swung over, the bow abandoned as he followed and yet, by the time he had reached the water’s edge, Novak was a pace ahead of him. By the time he had settled into the water, Spencer came to crouch nearby, shaking ash from his hair. A streak of red ran through his hair to be washed off when the dust settled, in a sense.
“Will you be alright..?” He spoke softly, some hoarseness to his voice yet from the smoke. The bow and quiver had been set down, dropping to a seated position momentarily. Water. He knew of its healing purposes. He utilized it on a small scale when it served a use. A few breaths. He decided. Then it was onward to pull the saddle from their steed. To create a place to rest that was inevitably needed.
As the commotion went on, Spencer stuck to the outer rim of the festivities. A wayward glance went to his comrade now and then, keeping to his own midst the traffic leading every which way from those partaking in food and entertainment, his attention went to those who had set up shop. Striking conversation with those who were selling, of the items. The festival itself. Sharing stories of travels to where both had once gone, or haven’t. His attention attempted to hold the entirety of the place for the sake of supervision… it would do little assistance in assuring the other man was not lost.
His purchases made, provisions were among the top of the list. A piece of weaponry or two was purchased, partially from the conversation struck with the craftsman that lasted for a decent amount of time while Novak was absent.
He thought nothing of it… until he heard a scream. A chill went through even he when he recognized the age of the sound. A youth, eyes glancing up at the sight that caused monochrome eyes to widen. A step back was taken… then several. The crowd dispersing, planting his feet a time or two in order to not be knocked over. Fire. Spencer grimaced.
The screams of few individuals made their way over the sound of the rest, the flames licking the neighboring trees and structures of the place. The wolven creatures that had made their presence for none other than the two. There was no questioning. To the areas closest, his attention turned to the flames. Words rattled off his tongue in a near-silent tone, his palms held downward, feeling the heat rising to his skin.
It was a spell meant for flames. Not fires. Strong enough to expel candles… not wildfires. With no time to search a spell book for otherwise, Spencer cursed under his breath and made his way towards the other end of the camp.
. . .
From the circling hellhounds, a whistling sound ripping through the air resulted in the sudden halt of one of the beasts. “NOVAK!” He yelled from none too far away, a bow grasped in his hand, the resulting arrow lodged close to the eye socket of the downed hellhound. A streak of ash was present in his hair from whatever endeavors had brought him there, a quiver of arrows over his shoulder from where it had been taken from where they rested.
"To live in such a strange world... where the trouble of one can seem so calm to another." Spencer stated amusingly. Such words came as relief wholeheartedly. It reminded of the days when the things that would startle humanity were nothing out of the ordinary at all. Such things were now reserved to the wilderness of the territory, or Omnia. To the promise of what loomed up ahead for either, a silent yet present nod came from Spencer in acknowledgement. If there were more of the unseen world to be uncovered, let him do so. The ride went on in silence, the thoughts in his head making up most of it, the hounds lingering in the back of his mind. The Underworld. Something about the concept creeping into his thought from time to time. It was hand in hand with the tent in the valley. The old man, and now whatever destination lingered ahead.
"Are we..?" Spencer spoke softly as the open field had presented itself as a destination. He knew better than to ask such a thing out of anything other than curiosity. It was then he remembered. Out of his pocket one of the small seeds was taken out, set between his teeth. Silver hues swept about the space, the slightest movements eye catching as he waited. It would hardly be for long after the man's queue was seemingly given. To the first tree trunk he had settled on, a glint of curiosity shone in his eyes when a figure appeared. And the next. The next. Until watching the phenomena no longer served as interesting as those whom were coming out of it. To the effect of the mist in such a setting it hit him as disorienting upon first glimpse until his vision settled down.
As his eyes traveled to one person to the next, a coy smile came across his lips. Spencer's attention snapped towards Novak again at the stranger whom approached, expression still alight with the sudden change of the space. By the time Pan's attention went to Spencer his head was turned. Seemingly lost in the activity around them until prompted.
Glancing to the stranger, the ex-Rider dipped his head respectfully. The smile lingered on his face with ease as he did so. "A pleasure to meet you... and I promise those stories have been very well passed on." He responded. "And... it would be much appreciated."
Dismissed by the once-stranger, he glanced back to Novak with a bit of a grin. "This place is magnificent..." His voice held an air of excitement as his words lingered. The advice was taken in, his gaze doing a sweep around the place once again as he spoke. The next moment after, he stood alone. A chuckle escaped to the sight of the other being dragged off. With one last... rather thoughtful glance to the people around him, Spencer decided to make his rounds of the space.
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