Ravenclaw Agavacea is playing REIGN OF BLOOD - Click here to create your own vampire character!
| Ravenclaw Agavacea (166503) | "Good bye RoB" | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
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Ravenclaw Agavacea has 38 friends View All Friends |
 [Mortal Age] - 34 [Actual Age] - December 6, 1769 (218) [Died] - April 21 , 2019 [Appearance] – Standing at 5’11”, his pale skin smooth over his muscular build; long white hair falling to the middle of his back, and perfectly covering half his face. A tattoo etched across his neck. Golden flecks highlight his rich hazel eyes, set deep in his statuesque face. Wearing stone washed jeans, black biker boots, and a white button-up shirt that fits his chest perfectly; a long black trench-coat covers his raven black wings. Raven carries a long sword at all times. [Nature] – A good natured, loyal friend, who gives trust to those who deserve and gain it. Often stubborn due to high morals, he will fight for what he believes in. Dedicated to those he considers family. [Demeanor] – Raven is a kind hearted gentleman who will go out of his way to let all feel welcome. Has a short temper when it comes to those who cross paths with him negatively. A strong warrior, Raven will passionately and nobly die in battle. [History] – December 6, 1769, Raven was born into a poor farming family in a small town in Tennessee. An only child, Raven worked on his parent’s farm since he was little, and got used to intensive labor, but he never experienced anything then when he was drafted into the military. Taking post at Fort Orleans near Brunswick, MO, Raven spent his time learning about weapons and fighting, gaining knowledge, eventually becoming a powerful fighter. During the night in 1803, Raven was awoken by explosions and fighting outside of his window. Rushing outside of the barracks, Raven was suddenly hit hard by a moving object, knocking him unconscious. He awoke some time later in the middle of a clearing used for target practice a few miles from his post. Sitting up and rubbing his neck, his fingers trace over two scars that weren’t there before. Briefly questioning, he shook his head and stood up. Unaware of how long he was out, Raven stumbled back towards his barracks, weak and starving. Upon arriving at the barracks, Raven stared in amazement at the horror before him. Fort Orleans was completely destroyed. Fire ravaged the buildings, leaving black soot skeletons of what used to be buildings. Charred bodies of members of his unit lay scattered across the blackened floor. Walking past still smoldering frames of his barracks, Raven tried to look for survivors, but found none. His clothes dirty and torn, blood stained patches on his shirt, Raven wearily walked away from the wreckage that once was his home, never to return. Unable to bear the pain he felt from hunger, and feeling eerily uneasy in his own skin, Raven went in search of food and shelter. It was dark, yet he could see clearly in the forest, and his hearing was incredible. A sudden scent curled around his nose making his stomach burn like a thousand fires. Following the delicious smell through the woods, Raven’s heart raced, stumbling over branches and through swamp waters, unable to concentrate on anything but the smell. Finally entering a clearing, falling to his hands and knees, his hair falling around his face and shoulders, Raven breathed heavily. Pushing his hair from his eyes, he looked up to find a village. The rows of houses along the dirt main street were dark and quiet; those who lived there, fast asleep. Standing up, and slowly walking down the street, clutching his burning stomach, Raven looked for a pub to find food and drink in. Rounding a corner past a row of old houses, Raven spots an Inn/Tavern with a light in the window. Walking inside, patrons of the bar suddenly went silent and stared, questioning the stranger in their town. Taking a seat at the bar, Raven runs his fingers through his hair, then resting his forehead on his hands. The bar tender, cautiously walking over to the mysterious and bloody man, stood there cleaning a glass with his apron. “What can I get you, son?” the gruff voice tender asked. “Shot of anything…leave the bottle.” Raven’s voice startled him, it was different than before. Taking a shot glass and a bottle of whiskey down from the shelves, the tender placed it in front of Raven, and then returned to his work. Whispers from the patrons started to get louder when one of the old, drunk men decided to sit beside Raven. His large hand slapped down on the bar with a loud thud. “Who the hell are you?” the disheveled man grunted to Raven. His stale breath filling the air around them both. “Not now, old man…” Raven’s hunger burned even more, the anger within him not helping the situation. With a quick, rough shove, the old drunk pushed Raven off his stool and to the floor. In a flash, Raven was to his feet and at the throat of the drunken man; his eyes darkened and wide as he sunk his teeth into his neck, draining the man of his lifeline. Horrified at the act he had just performed, Raven fled the bar. His hunger only partially satisfied, Raven ran from the village and back into the woods. Who am I? WHAT am I? Raven thought as he slowed his pace to stop and lean against a tree. It was then that he realized his life would never be the same. Many years had past, and Raven grew to understand who and what he was, often times forgetting he wasn’t the man he once was. His wandering throughout life eventually lead him to Clandestine Aristocracy where he would embark on the next journey in his life .  |
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