"A Deal With The Devil Is A Deal With Me."
|| THE ESSENTIALS ||
Birth Name: Helios Hasani
Nickname: Gray
Alias: The White Wolf | Wrath
Titles: N/A
Species: Echani
Homeworld: Onderon
Faction(s): The Sith Order
Rank(s): Sith Knight
Master(s): None
Padawan(s): None
Force Sensitive: Yes
Alignment: Chaotic Evil
|| PHYSICAL PROFILE ||
Gender: Male
Age: 57
Height: 6ft2
Weight: 179lbs
Complexion: Fair
Eye Color: Vibrant Gold
Hair Color: Silvern White
Voice Sample: N/A
Appearance Details: A precursor of famine, the ravager of beauty and the usurper of wealth. He is a man composed of debilitating darkness, the cavalier of decay wrapped gallantly in genteel robes. A curved beak gilded, glimmering in its satiating garnishments of mannerly offence, acerbic syllables sure to scorch (the salt in a weeping wound) and appall, though bandage with liquid honey. There is a predatory charisma which exudes from every encrusted aperture; a miasmic allure, a tyrannous magnetism which alike moth to flame, only fascinates to burn.
To scald the skin, and fester the flesh. Classic, dapper debonair, he extrudes the more roughened persuasion of masculine refinement, the hard boned stature absent of soft and fleshy distinction to define a more a lacking caliber, but there is nothing upon him that manifests the slightest provoking thought of subtlety within the hardened expanse of powerful, rippling sinew, and delving, calloused features of someone who had to mature far beyond their due.
Of considerable frame, he stands of herculean derive, toned and edged in the sharpened raze of a driving blade, primal and coiled bearing of silent wait of a crusade vindicator, an artisan of both impassioned affair and war as its contrive lines the thickened proportion of virile eminence. Laden deep in the thickened raze of wildened obsidian, lavished in the profound hue of obscurity and penumbra, he is a creature of dusk and shade that looms in the contour of evoking the memory of midnight, of searing torridity, and the listless chime of carillon warning in the distance beneath the tracing intimacy of fevered fingertips as burnished, bedroom eyes of avid gold eclipse in the smoldering veil of carnality.
Shoulder blades arch and coil in acute strength and physical prowess, from their erotically protruding joints bask and spread the great wings of seraph's grace, breadth wide, power discernible, adorned in the long, thickened flounce of feathery aerodynamic down. He is the light who casts a lustrous shadow of eerie darkness, an enveloping grandeur shorn from years of ghostly, clandestine propriety.
Supremacy flows through the invisible chasms of an iron moat eroded by the soft ebbing tide of chilling waters. Embraced, in the saccharine fever of early Winter's fervent ice, his lips of pallid stone persist in sealed devilry, secrets hoarded in possessive fixation, the argent delicacy of this ripened lamb silhouetted against a mantle of supernal bewitchment. Cloying chess-master contessa; he exhales the seething breath of gods, embellished therein the conniving coil of mortal intrigue.
The exemplified omen of pestilence, an ophidian king, bedecked in opalescent, parse fibers and sinewy hides. He is wrought of volcanic marble, a deific countenance chiseled in reptilian devotion; his physique bowing like a prehensile avifauna, svelte curvature arcing in viperish flexibility, giving the impression of nimble fragility. Entangled by thorns; his bodice oft rife with cold machinating beauty, android and steely, whose desires lay dead and frigid within ophidian, slender shell. He were imprisoned betwixt the diaphanous fabric of lethargic stupor.
Barbed wire forged, woven of stygian pearl; hues of a tinted gold, they manifest an exquisite iridescence across adonial musculature, angled limb and sinew chiseled with gleaming jackknife artistry gleaned from the bow of artemis, carved in subtle sacrilege donning threaded heartstrings of heralded vessel. Sumptuous athleticism is lacquered in the scaling of draconian plate.
His clothes are reaped from the throes of blinding darkness, the somber saturation of searing winter's falling agleam within elegantly whorled coiffure, hirsute curls and winding plume framing visage of baronial masculinity, temptingly and seductively mature in its cold, sinister regard. He is a mass of emotionless misfortune, a creature born therein the throes of cynical ordainment. Careened and cultivated in a sealed curse of misanthropic iniquity, a man that views the world through lenses of darkened marble, the reality of the world a creation carved meticulously from the bleached bones of sin and transgression.
Devoid of hope, teeming with furtive despair, he dons no vein of faith, merely the veil of numb apathy, indifference a swarm of locusts forever collectively feeding upon the crops of trust which attempt to grow within his deadened psyche. No breed of quest fuels him, for such exquisite emptiness is oft filled by they who chooses what of which he will consist. He bends to the will of evil, remains a seemingly loyal, if not exsanguinous captain, his only solace the stalwart endurance he possesses to digest and tolerate the hell which occupies ones existence.
A willing contessa; the blind courtesan offers freely the flesh of his neck in willowy propriety. And yet, an untouchable pariah in way of essence and chilling ambiance. A maw touched by Ani, darkened and burnt by the flames of the damned in Hell, it scorches his tongue and taunts his jaws to a mask of disguise, a mask of lies and a mask of darkness. Mother. Holds in a high regard, beautiful visage and delicate doll. Father. Immortal being, a God. No ropes of love tie these two together.
Feigned smiles and air headed giggles, Lion's darling doll and aspiration. Vornatti. Head full of grandeur, mannerisms troublesome. Lacking in gratitude, yet possessing of a similar need to beguile, he is a wolf cut from the same rotten cloth. They share the same soul tormentor of Ani, together they are one. Velanna. The freak, the odd creature, she is a treasure to be locked within a cedar chest. Amarantha. A creature above the throes of war and human greed, viewed upon equally as the same as his siblings. Crow Crest. A favorable nest of sadistic and charismatic fledging creatures, beaks act as claws and teeth. Home of the royals, the deserved-to-be royals.
|| Psychological Profile||
Personality Breakdown: A particular fascination lies nurtured under his oppressive seams. The thirst for somatic superiority, the beautiful, the superficial husk to which his eyes long to ravage and his fingers ache to purge from the pearly bone beneath. To render tissues and paint his own canvas of grisly disfigurement. Though such drastic pleasures are tempered beneath his simple desire to covet, to substantiate himself over them and make them crawl upon the floor in quiescent conquest. Subservience. Sweet slavery, overvalued liberty pilfered.
He has a similar fascination for gold, treasures; trinkets that shine, and valuables that glimmer. Everything of corporeal splendor must be owned, he must have all, and he is above no means to obtain his desires. Whether by deception, or simply merciless and perverse devastation. His jealous rage, his demoniac beguilement. Adonian rite, the smoldering grace of Apollo and the intentful lavish of Artemis's hunterian demand, he is the last remnant of primeval strike, the bow and arrow that brought down the erymanthian boar, the sharpened drive of the sword through the impassable flesh of nemean lion, and that severed the screaming heads of the lernaen hydra all within the single, fell blow of hardied hands; famed bane of Hera, the lustful fault of Zeus, within him, he carries the herculean heritage of divinity's past and the mortal fracture of human lethality.
Shuddering power of eidolon regime, reigning imminence of rugged kings of the wilds, it drenches him in a thickened slather of sworn herald made in the promise of wrenching blood cut from the thrumming heart-lines of a dying sovereign of primitive strain and drawn from the aegis of iron chalices. Looming, muscular, he is the Templar of holy divinity, a seraphic creation derived to become the bulwark of the ryche, a partisan, a knight devoted wholly to the presentation of chosen cause that had become the need for servitude of a higher, intended calling. Every inch of sleekened, roughened curvatures that brim with the hardened press of delving flesh honed, edging muscle that were wrought to withhold, to remain adamant against driving force that shift, ripple, and curve in the arch of gleaming sinew forged in the searing pyres of rigid cast, of Hephaestus's dwelling brilliance beneath sable, crimson flesh. He is the last meld of the winterborn phillistine, of liberated savagery, the czars of old with his frosted eyes of azurian empyrean and steadfast assertion of unfaltering resolve that remains intent upon its final purpose; to serve and conquer.
He is the god of seduction and the priest of destruction. Victims will shudder in their quake and bow down to their holy ruler. A finesse virile gorged beyond the grooves of mist laden secretion, forever loitering along the tender, corroding banks of malevolent chill, an enticing, sickly aura of frigid seduction plaintively nipping at agile scolded heels. Whose lithe, cajoling embrace whispers of darkness, a frost laden caress leaving flesh horrifyingly destitute, thrashed in succulent stagnancy from intrinsic skeletal allure. A churning altar echoing of fog, of haze clouded in incendiary delirium, he is the face of glacial provocation, the cooling touch that beseeches the towering rows of incendiary hellish flame, the corridor of endless gloss, light, and ill fates swallowed and consumed with harsh, self-vindictive compliance.
He is wrung of moral blood, but ever still possesses the conduct proper of his minor centuries long ruling, austerity a sinking, flowing entity, within which he wallows in the intoxicant dusts of socerous marrows long since dispersed. A ravishing sense of quiet discord barely humbles the reaping of his vainglorious engrossment, rampant lacings of venom induced hysteria carefully hidden beneath wrappings of immaculate propriety, frigid elegance, and poker faced debauchery all calmly mantling the dipped wax of swarthy, licentious filth feasting and breeding beyond the sultry veil of empyrean elitism.
His image is everything and anything; a culture of splendor inseminated therein his noble cultivation and golden woven blood. In keen discernment his sophistication and restraint are the greatest of his tools within an inventory of polished felicity. In the vigilant spirit of prudence and precision, he waxes, and wanes, as the foundation of his endeavors would cause a discreetly judicious psyche to dictate.
The all seeing; the all knowing; ruminations and observance bear no heed to rectitude, only efficiency. Inadequacy is neither entertained nor tolerated; fore naught is his patience with undivided weakness. Each blemish he finds, on those who surround him, or upon himself, is viciously scrutinized, and mercilessly sacrificed to the flames and scattered into dust.
|| Orientations ||
Marital Status: Single
Sexual Conduct: Heterosexual
Sin(s): Pride & Wrath
Virtue(s): None
Languages: Galactic Basic
Occupation: Rouge Sith
Residence: Drifer
|| BIOGRAPHY: ||
Pre-Site-History
Enigmatic hell hounds croon havoc, vexation upon the sands, while the predatory, apex of the beast remains nestled within the safety of sovereign jungle walls. They suckle, drink heavily at thee breast of life, birthed into a world of lecherous animosity and fevered bedlam based upon the preaching of depravity. Based within the throes of primeval world, of primal instinct and fervid inamorata. The old testaments, and wills upon which the livid enchantments of history confound upon, ligaments and tissues of a lascivious heart of archaic, rustic mystery. How profound, this Bible of deceit, it bids you welcome. Stay, if but for the breath of a moment and let us welcome you, o' gracious guest, unto the very enthralling lips of enigmatic Eden. Walk among those of barbaric enticement, lingering primeval ghosts. Prolific monoliths of times well passed, and yet still they remain, straying remnants of a world which refuses to change. Taste the euphoric rapture, the bitter, acrid knife of betrayal slipping amorously between lithe, dulcet ribs. Enthrall in the cataclysmic mutiny of two worlds expanding, imploding, clashing against one another in a heated affair. Walk in the wake of monstrous beasts, their paths unfurled as if coaxing closer, closer still the rush of a curious mind until gnashing severity of fangs sever all thought from a feeble stem and cerebral musings. This is the world of beast and monsters...
The tale of Darth Apollyon started a cold night, born to the King and Queen with one twin brother, when he was but a crying babe by the name of Helios Hasani. As the eldest of the twins and rightful heir to the throne of Onderon and descendant of Echani blood, Helios was a child cursed by destiny; there was no escaping the fact that his life was meant to be one of great import, bound by the will of something stronger—even if he hadn’t become Sith.
Before the children were even born, their publicity had been marinating since the pregnancy was announced to the public, and as the children came into the world, they had quickly grown accustomed to being the center of attention, and they had grown used to never receiving attention from their parents. Life within the palace had only manifested anger, envy, sadness, and a lack of trust, and the only friend that Helios had while growing up was his younger, more cheerful twin, but there was nothing that could prepare him to lose the only good thing that kept a smile on his face.
Awakening to the unorthodox sounds of strife on his eighth birthday, Helios laid his eyes upon the bloodied, still-eyed body of his mother on the ground, though his father was nowhere to be found. A youthful-looking red-haired woman, who could have easily been considered gorgeous had it not been for the tattoos marring her face, abducted his brother; the same woman he would come to know as Servant Two. An armored hulking apparition, something that looked as if it was extracted from a nightmare, had seized his paralyzed body into its hands—and everything went blank from there.
When he woke, he found himself and his brother embedded in a kolto tank in a dark place he had never seen in his life with two pairs of eyes on them; that red-haired woman and a seated, antiquated man with a hooded black robe covering all but the wrinkles that clothed his chin. No pain from the past to present day rivaled the searing pain from the experimental fluids being pumped into his veins, with the ancient Sith sorcery permeating the rest of his form. However, his brother was as still as a corpse, as if the experiment was working perfectly fine with him, yet rejected Helios. It was then did the Emperor find his new contingency plan, but what had happened of his brother, was but a bad memory—possibly worse than what was planned for Helios himself.
After being held hostage for years by the Emperor and his Hand, Helios entered the Sith Academy on Dromund Kaas at the precocious age of twelve, which he was both feared by his Overseers and fellow acolytes for the sheer amount of power surging through him. Physically, he was a powerhouse, mentally, he was intuitive and strong-willed, and his connection to the Force was something that hadn’t been witnessed in years. Following and surviving the hardships and rage, Helios graduated and became a full-fledged Sith just as the new Great Galactic War in the Empire’s favor, becoming apprentice to a member of the Dark Council, Darth Veranikus. She thought herself to be the greatest power in his life, but he had been assigned his true master long before he wielded his first lightsaber and was forced to meet with him sporadically.
Immediately, Helios thought the Dark Lord he secondarily served under to be a weakling who earned her position with the aid of political garbage and deceit—he respected none of it. But he was forced to keep up his facade and learn under the woman for a number of years throughout the war, growing more and more powerful as his body count accelerated. His most notable action was serving as the lieutenant of Darth Veranikus’s commandeering of the assault on Korriban and being pivotal to seizing the Sith homeworld, being deemed Lord Helios by her.
But as the might of her apprentice reached new heights, her fear of him and what he might do festered and festered. Her first mistake was sending him on a false mission to the caves of Dxun, said to retrieve a relic that could turn back the tide of the war. But the Imperial soldiers that she instructed to aid him had turned on him, setting off a pile of explosives that buried him alive within the cave. Her second mistake was believing him to be dead.
Surviving with his raw hatred alone, Lord Helios learned to fully unleash the power of the dark side on that day, and hunted down each of the Imperial soldiers and their families throughout the next week, Force Persuading each of them to tell their wives, husbands, and children that they were traitors to the Empire, to which they would all commit suicide in front of their families. Storming into the Dromund Kaas sanctum of Darth Veranikus, Helios slaughtered every single military and Sith occupant, then beat down and killed her with his bare hands. Her corpse never made any mistakes.
On that same day, Lord Helios was recalled back to the Emperor, from which he was given the position of the third Emperor’s Wrath and deemed Darth Apollyon; direct enforcer of the Emperor’s bidding and answering only to the Emperor himself. And much like the Wrath before him, Thana Shan, He began to serve the Emperor faithfully throughout the years; commanding charges through many battles in the war, executing his foes within and without the Empire, and setting the seeds for his ultimate machinations.
But from that day and to the present, there was never a doubt in his mind that even if he were above the Dark Council and everyone else in the Empire, he was only the most powerful slave to a self-serving Emperor who ruled over a misguided Empire. An empire that eventually fell due to its incompetence.
