makyo rplolol

BYOND Key: Valkreed
Character Name: Spice-Ko
Race: Makyo
Alignment: Lawful Neutral/Evil (Chaotic Evil under the Star's influence)
Character Age: Mid 20s
Rank Applying For: Ancient Makyo

A ring of fire encompassed the battlefield. Bodies fell by the second. Blood littered the concrete, each fallen hero's crimson liquid painting a sick, twisted image of pure malevolence. He preserved and pressed onward, surging through the oncoming wave of enemies. They meant nothing to him. This mysterious, alluring man with sea emerald features and a beefy figure. Snow white hair and charcoal eyes. His torso had been ripped to shreds, his armor rendered useless. Sweat seeped from his pores, bloodied and battered. And yet, he continued. One man against an entire force of the world's strongest.

Teeth gritted, his hands prolonged, stretching behind his back, where his swords lay in their holsters. At the same time, he brandished both. In his hands now were a pair of dual blades, walking forwards, fiery eyes fixated upon the approaching army. His walk occasionally became a limp; he’d been severely injured from a blow to his left knee, alongside the near immobility of his arms from the flat of an ax. His grip merely tightened. Adrenaline coursed through his veins, fury replacing his pain.

He lurched forwards.

It was as if he’d materialized before his attackers: his blinding speed leaving them dumbfounded for only a moment as they regained composure and fought against the battle-wounded warrior. He bobbed and weaved through the advancing crowd; sinking his blades into shoulders, plunging them into chests, sheathing them in hearts. His victims crumpled like paper, slinking to the floor. “These heroes mean nothing to me, when the Star arrives, I'll reduce them all to waste.." he chuckled under his breath, immediately taken away from him. He could hear the rrrip! of his flesh. Sharp nails had torn through his beefy shoulder. Blood erupted from the gash, but it was far from over. Another sunk his dagger into the back of his knee. A slash to his face. Spice, too, crumpled to his knees.

A ring of soldiers closed in on him. His left arm had been rendered completely useless, discarding his blade that’d long since been lost in his sea of enemies. He knew his end was near. The chapter of Spice Ko the Ancient Makyan drawing to a close. Memories clouded his thoughts; going through each major event in his life, his rise to power.. Then it struck him.

Spice shook his head, and out of nowhere, a dark grin graced his scarred features. “What is this feeling..? Are these.. no..” he thought. His eyes were filled to the brim with water that soon streamed down his cheeks. “Tears.. these are tears. Is this what sorrow feels like? What an earthly emotion. One that no one has ever made me feel before. They would dare.. they’d dare make me feel this way? They would strike me down as if a common housefly? THIS RAG-TAG GROUP OF DO-GOODERS?!” Anger began to build up inside of him, manifesting from his heart and welling up like a blister. “You’d dare..” he murmured. It seemed to have caught the heroes and their armada off guard. They were almost certain he was gone for good. “You would dare.. make a fool of me..” growled the Makyan. It took every fiber in his body, but he began to rise. The sound of swords unsheathing and weights dropping to the dirt filled the air. “A fool of me.. of ME.. you shouldn’t of done that..”

“YOU SHOULDN’T HAVE DONE THAT!”

The ground quaked in fear, rumbling and quivering as if it were awakening from immense slumber. Strength surged through him. His onyx orbs flared. Power that’d been dormant for ages emerged from within him in the form of pure, psychopathic rage. His energy sky-rocketed, climbing as every moment passed. Gusts of wind circled around him. The clouds themselves became gray, shrouding the planet in darkness. Thunder boomed and ricocheted across every nook and cranny of land while lightning shattered the very heavens and clashed with the earth. As the lightning approached, the forces began to break ranks, scattering in every direction in the hopes of retreating.

But in their path he stood.

The Makyan grew to colossal proportions, taking on a demonic reptilian transformation that multiplied his power by many folds. The flamboyant beast nearly made it seem illustrious and breathtaking in its form; but the only breaths to be taken today were those of his enemies'. Vibrant and strong, his once dark eyes were replaced with orbs of a solid dark-green. Power billowed from his body. An aura blazed around his figure, enveloped by fire. He began to walk, and emerging from the flames was a different man, unlike anything the world had ever seen before.

The Makyan King of Ancients, Lord Spice.