Irkall

[Irkall]

Irkall Krome

Uncrowned King of Death

Race: Phantom, Mortalborn (Vri x Human)
Date of Birth: 27th Saun, 696
Age: 27 Arcs old

Mortalborn of Ghosts, Fog, Domination

[Irkall]

Personality

"You do not know death. Allow me to introduce you."

A victim of many tragedies, Irkall cares little for the people of Idalos. They are obstacles and nuisances. Yet in the same way, they are tools for a greater purpose. Even as a ghost he seeks to control and use them to bring himself back. Empathy is a concept foreign to the Mortalborn, preferring to distance himself mentally from Mortals. They confuse him, their petty squabbles and meaningless endeavours. Instead, he cares only for his own plight, hoping to find and restore his lost love - and kill anyone who dares to try and stop him.

Appearance

"Look upon me, Mortals."

Irkall stands as a 5'11" muscular figure, well built from the harsh conditions and hard work he liked to put himself through growing up. Due to his nature as a Mortalborn he has pale skin and pale blue eyes, some mistaking him for an Eidisi or Ellune at a glance. Upon closer look it becomes clear that Irkall is something else entirely, his skin appearing ethereal. Messy white hair sits atop his head, caring little for his appearance. Vanity never mattered before to the Mortalborn, it matters far less now.

[Irkall]

History - Pre-Magic

"Lizbeth. My beloved. I will find you."

Born to the house Krome, Irkall was a noble child of Rynmere. Yet his birth was not natural. Vri had given life at the prayers of his mother, Sophia Krome, granting her a pregnancy that led to Irkall being born. This was not a known fact to anyone, however, and Irkall would not discover this until a later time. But as she had prayed for a long time in hope of another child and her prayers had been answered, Irkall was adored by Sophia in the early years of his life. Spoiled, treated like the nobility he was, with servants that gave him anything he asked for. But Irkall was not born a horrible child. Spoiled and bratty perhaps, uninterested in anything involving etiquette or politics, but never evil.

As he grew older he soured however. His mother became more distant, other responsibilities becoming more important to her. Servants were only so interesting for so long and his relationship with his siblings grew distant as they shared little in common. Even the similar hobbies they had Irkall would rather do alone than share with others. People were loud and confusing, parties were frustrating and he had expectations piling up as his life got further along. Talking to other nobles at different events only led the young boy to believe others around him were shallow and self-obsessed. What started as a small disdain for other nobles started to slowly turn to a superiority complex.

This complex only grew as he became older. At the age of 12, almost 13, Vri had decided that Irkall had reached enough of an age to know the truth. Visited by a servant in the night, the man shifted into the Immortal of Death, appearing before his son to tell him the truth. The spectacle left Irkall stunned at first, too shocked to speak. It couldn't possibly be true. Yet Vri told him a sad prediction. To prove he was the Immortal of Death, he told him that in one Arc his young sister Zara had very little time to live. There was a sadness in Vri's eyes as he admitted that fact. But it was truth. There was nothing Irkall could do to prevent it, the girl was already on the verge of sickness.

Vri told the young boy he would return on the day of her passing, before fading away into the dark, disappearing where he once stood .Two seasons went by and Zara's condition worsened before eventually she passed. It was enough that even Irkall shed tears for his sister. They were not close, she was on far better terms with Xander than she was with Irkall. But she was his sister. Family mattered, at least at that moment. That night he returned to his room and saw the man waiting for him. His father. The Immortal of death.

Swearing to visit from time to time, Vri gave a small but loving hug to his son, before returning to his solitude. Irkall felt a wave of various emotions. Sadness at the loss of his sister, shock at the revelation of his true nature - but most of all? Another layer was added to his superiority complex. He was a child of the Immortals. As much divine as he was mortal. The son of Death. His outlook on other mortals changed drastically through his teen years because of this revelation, though it was a sentiment he kept to himself. He became further isolated from his family, though many of them were mourning the loss of his little sister anyway. He trained more with blades and continued to indulge in his hobbies.

Forced to attend a Ball from time to time, one night at the age of seventeen Arcs, Irkall had another ball. His mother, now cold and bitter towards him, insisted he dress appropriately - calling his isolating behaviour concerning and told him to grow up. Begrudgingly, Irkall did as she asked, dressing in his smartest clothes and attending the dance, where his eyes fell upon the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. She noticed his gaze and smiled, dressed in a stunning black dress with darker jewellery than the others around. She stood out among the brighter colored outfits in the crowd as she started to approach. The usually quiet and isolated boy approached her in return and kissed her hand, addressing himself as Irkall Krome. It was there that he met Lizbeth. Born of a merchant family, daughter of a wealthy businessman.

But what drew his interest in deeper was not her looks, but her personality. Her snide jokes and blunt remarks, sarcasm lacing every word she said and her disdain for the overdone formalities in such events. She was perfect. They sat for hours talking, drawing the attention of his siblings and parents, seeing him speak more to another person than he had in many Arcs.

Once the night ended, Irkall asked Lisbeth where she was from. The girl told Irkall she lived close by, just a few breaks of walk, and asked if they could meet again. So the boy asked her if she would come see him tomorrow, that he could meet somewhere in the middle. Even sneaking out into the night. She agreed, telling him where they should meet and the two exchanged a hug. It was not formal, there was no etiquette. Just a hug.

The next night Irkall made good on his promise and snuck out of the Krome house once it was late, heading into the woods to the spot and found her waiting. Her clothes were far more casual now, her hair let down with long brunette waves. She asked if he still thought she was pretty now and the young man was stunned. "You're perfect" he admitted quietly, voice soft. Night after night the two would sneak out. Irkall never knew if his parents were unaware of him sneaking out or if they simply did not care, but either was alright with him. So long as he had her nothing else mattered.

Their friendship inevitably blossomed to a relationship and after an Arc they stopped having to sneak around, Irkall now at the age of eighteen where he could leave as he pleased, travelling to see her. The pair bought a home together when Irkall turned nineteen and he ventured between his family house in Krome and his new home with Lizbeth. Yet he still had to attend various balls and parties for the sake of image, but now he did so with her arm wrapped in his, the two able to laugh and dance together. For the first time in his life Irkall looked forward to formal events. It was a chance to see her dress up as she had when they met, a chance for Rynmere to see him and his love side by side.

One Ball, after over three arcs of being together, Lizbeth complained about feeling sick. When Irkall asked if she wished to go home she shook her head, not wanting to upset the Krome family or insult them by leaving early. So she excused herself for a moment. She walked outside to get some fresh air and after ten bits went by the Mortalborn stood from his seat, heading to the front entrance - in time to hear a scream. Lizbeth doubled over as she threw up blood and guards came over to ensure she was okay. Irkall rushed to her side and placed a hand on her back, yelling for the guards to go find a healer.

But by the time any healer arrived it was too late. Within minutes she was dead. The cause of death was unknown. Some believed it to be poison, others claimed she had been sick a long time and had always looked pale and weak. Some eyes turned to Irkall, his family concerned as he walked back inside that trial. His usually calm expression was replaced with pure agony. Tears streamed down his face and heartbreak shattered any semblance of joy inside him. Grief struck him like a plague and his heart felt as if it might explode in his chest. Dropping to his knees, Irkall let out a cry of anguish that echoed through the ballroom - and for a moment his eyes flashed an icey blue.

That night, after refusing comfort from anyone in his family, he travelled home, her body being buried in a graveyard in Krome at the request of her father. Upon returning home Irkall opened the door, moonlight shining his way as his eyes were foggy and tears continued to pour. Sat upon the bed was a box and a parchment that had not been there when he left. The parchment read simply:

"For you, my Sunlight. May it shine as bright as your smile.

- Your Lizbeth"

Before they had left for the ball Lizbeth returned inside, claiming she forgot her purse. Irkall knew she must have placed this gift for when the pair returned home. With tears pouring down his face he opened the box to see a beautiful silver necklace, adorned just enough to show his stature while still being simple and modest. It was perfect. He could barely hold back his heartbreak as he cried out in pain, heart wanting to rip from his chest. He dropped to his knees and called upon his father, Vri, to appear. Sure enough, the Immortal had seen the agony his son was feeling and was waiting to comfort him, appearing in the shadows - a look of sympathy on his face.

Yet Irkall did not rush to him for comfort, nor did he want an embrace. With a look of desperation in his eyes the Mortalborn begged Vri to bring her back. He claimed that Vri controlled death, that he could bring someone back and that Lizbeth didn't deserve what happened to her. Vri could only watch in silence as Irkall unravelled, before the Immortal finally spoke. Apologizing, Vri told the young man that he could not bring her back even if he wanted to. That death was natural and would happen to everyone sooner or later, and that Lizbeth's time was up. Irkall snapped back, claiming that death came for everyone mortal, that the Immortals were past that rule. That they wouldn't know what fearing death was like.

Vri was frozen as he saw the anger in Irkall's face, a look of betrayal that his own father would not save his lover. But Vri stood by his belief, afraid of what Irkall was becoming. His attempt to plead with his son to calm down and listen to reason was met with more anger, Irkall's eyes shifting to an even paler blue. The anger was unleashing his powers slowly, the intense emotion enough to awaken them bit by bit. There was nothing the Immortal could do or say to his son, he knew that much now. So without a word the Immortal looked away, fading into the dark - sadness on his own face.

Desperate, Irkall grabbed his blade and head out into the night, keeping the necklace safe in his pocket. Pulling a cloak over his paling face he head into the dark, making his way to the city of Andaris. Everyone had heard whispers of mages, Necromancers that had the ability to summon and commune with the dead. If anything would help bring her back it would be them. Not caring about the dark or the risks of travelling alone at night, he head for Andaris, stopping at taverns along the way to eat and leave when needed. Once in Andaris he made his way through the streets at night, searching graveyards, abandoned districts and poorer parts of town. More than once, somebody attempted to take his nels, robbing him in the night.

More than once he took a life.

It was the first time he had killed anyone, but Irkall didn't care. They were street rats standing between him and his lover. They mattered to nobody. Nobody would mourn them. He continued to search around, skin growing more and more pale, eyes now icey-blue where they had once been brown. Late into the night, around 3 in the morning, Irkall noticed a group of hooded figures had started to follow him through a graveyard he was searching. The Mortalborn paused where he stood, clutching his bloodied blade as he turned his ice-cold stare to the three men. Each of them held a dagger under their cloaks and looked to him, one smirking as he warned that the graveyard was a dangerous place to roam, saying the dead walked late at night.

"I'm counting on it" he replied simply, looking to the three. "I'm looking for Seers. Necromancers. I need their help" he looked between them. The three seemed to pause for a moment and looked to one another. In their time as mages nobody had ever asked for them before directly, let alone or a magic as dark as necromancy. Besides, they practiced in secret. As Irkall lowered his hood to show his new face the three were stunned. They had seen mutations and deformities but never something this intense before. Out of instinct one of the men raised his dagger, asking what it was Irkall wanted from these supposed necromancers. When he said that he wanted to learn they froze.

Before the others could speak the third, and the most vocal of the three, scoffed - saying they would get more use out of his corpse than they would a stray that wanted to learn Necromancy. For a moment, Irkall looked down at the ground. But his anger was still fresh. In a burst of emotion his Mortalborn powers erupted. Crying out with an unspoken rage, Irkall found a ghostly crown appearing on his head. As they were in a graveyard a small array of ghosts appeared at his side and the man that had insulted him was suddenly lifted up as numerous ghosts materialized and begun to attack him. The other two stepped back in horror, attempting to use necromancy to control the ghosts but to no success, watching as their accomplice was torn apart by these ghosts and a thick fog appeared around Irkall and swarmed them all.

Despite the fog, Irkall could see, however. So he approached one of the other two as they backed away from one another, gripping the side of the mans head - unknowingly using Mindbreak to weaken his resolve. "You will do as I say!" he roared in threat, the man trembling in his hands while immediately agreeing in fear of his life. He pleaded for his life and Irkall, shaking with anger, let go. As his emotions calmed the fog dissipated and the crown on his head vanished again - the ghosts simply dematerializing away.

After witnessing what Irkall was capable of the pair knew they had no choice but to help him. But more than that, they realized the reward they may get for bringing such a powerful person into the group. So they took him to an abandoned building that some of the more powerful Seer members spent time in. The Seers were confused at the new sight, but after hearing the explanation they pondered for a moment. It would be easy enough to kill him, there were many powerful Necromancers present that trial. But if the men from the graveyard were to be believed this man was powerful. Someone important for their ranks, perhaps even able to teach them how to control ghosts as he had. So they asked him one simple question before they decided.

His name.

Once they knew who he was they prepared him for initiation over the span of weeks, being trained by one of their higher ups personally. Having a noble in their ranks opened opportunities, they didn't want to mess it up. Eventually they took Irkall to a graveyard and begun the initiation.

History - Post-Magic

"You will pay for this with blood!"

Having wrestled control of a corpse and bringing it under his influence, Irkall was initiated as a Necromancer. Bodies would move when under his control, lurching to life with a taste for flesh. But it was not what he needed. He had to grow stronger. If he was going to find a way to bring someone back he would need to refine this art, do more than simply make shambling skeletons and bodies. So each night he toyed with corpses, learning alongside the Seers to try and grow more powerful in magic.

Which made it easy for the Mantis to detect him when they invaded Rynmere.

Other Seers were smart enough to remain hidden, but Irkall had been far from subtle, raising the dead when he thought he was alone. Unaware who was watching. Despite his family trying to contact him, finding his home was empty, and despite the Seers looking out for him - Irkall was eventually caught and taken. He put up resistance, stabbed a Mantis through the neck and tried to use his thrall to kill the others, but it was no use. They imprisoned him for one night and by the next morning they were preparing him for execution.

As he was dragged out onto the stage to be executed he looked into the crowd, anger in his eyes. Staring back at him was his father from the cheering crowd, Vri stood watching. Irkall knew that it was his time. Was this it? Had he failed before he could bring back his Lizbeth? They tied him to a post and in a moment of desperation he let out a loud cry as the crowd continued to yell insults at him, calling him a filthy witch and disgusting mage. A crown appeared on his head and he yelled. "I will not die today! You will pay for this with blood!". As he cried out ghosts begun to appear, materializing and attacking the crowd and Mantis alike, anything to try and free Irkall.

As a wicked grin spread across Irkall's face he felt a sharp pain in his gut. One of the mantis had grabbed a sword and impaled him. Before he could even react, the sword was pulled out - and everything faded to black.

When he woke in the midst of his father and Pier and Pre his face contorted to anger. This was not his end. The Twins of Judgement offered him his two choices. Pass on to the afterlife, or remain stuck on this plane, trapped as a ghost. Many would contemplate the choice. But Irkall had seen what ghosts were capable of. But more than that. Irkall would not leave without Lizbeth. He had not found a way to save her and now the people had stood around and watched him, waiting for him to burn with cheers and delight.

As promised, they would pay with blood.

With a look of disgust to his father, Irkall turned his back on the three figures with one final warning to them all. "I will not pass until my justice is served."

Now, after time as an echo, Irkall has progressed to a Phantom - haunting his way through Idalos in hope to bring himself back.

[Irkall]

Belongings

"Wealth is only power to the vain and weak-minded."

Good quality Silver necklace embedded with an ice-blue apatite (Heirloom item)

Anchors

"My purpose is what binds me to this world. My one goal."

Good quality Silver necklace embedded with an ice-blue apatite (Anchor, currently in Melrath)
Small golden tiara with a ruby in the front (Anchor, in Rharne)

Housing

"This place will do. For now."

In the wilds of Melrath, Irkall's ghost lives in a home owned by a young couple as they own his necklace. The home is fairly sized and ready for the chance they have a family of their own, with nice enough furniture and decent quality decoration. None of this matters to the Phantom, of course, but should he someday return to life he will find a place of his own - even by force if he must.

Note: The house is not owned by Irkall, rather by the people (Liara and Duvrin) that are in possession of his Anchors! When he is not a ghost I'll worry about him getting a home lmao

[Irkall]

Abilities

"Look at me. Witness what true power is!"

Ghosts - Crown of Undeath

As the noble child of Death, Irkall’s ability formed as a crown. This crown is not a physical item, rather something he can summon on command, fixed upon his head. This ethereal blue crown appears semi-translucent and any attempt to touch or remove it will not work as it is incorporeal.

When the crown is on Irkall’s head, ghosts in the surrounding area will find themselves drawn to it. Their obsessions shift and alter, becoming aligned with his. This does not mean they must follow his every order or risk their lives for him. However, whatever he is currently seeking to achieve will become the obsession of the ghost until they are out of his range or the crown is put away, making them more likely to act in a way that benefits Irkall. If someone is believed to be a threat the ghosts will begin to assault and syphon them, if an item needs to be found the ghosts will scout and find it. This will affect any tier one or two ghosts, but has no impact on necromantic thralls. Any tier three ghost in the area will not be under his influence but will be far less likely to attack him while the crown is active. This ability will not make ghosts appear where there are none, but it will call out to any ghost within earshot, as they can hear his words and demands. The higher a ghost's discipline the easier it will be for them to resist this order, and any ghost with Master or higher Discipline may ignore it entirely. Below that they can start to resist the urge but will still feel a calling towards Irkall and his orders. How they react to this is up to each player individually and depends on the order given.

This attunement with ghosts has permanently changed Irkall visually, however. His hair is pure white and his eyes an ice-blue, as if he is incorporeal himself. Wearing the crown will also make his eyes start to glow. This effect is purely visual and gives him no benefits. It can not be masked with magic and must be hidden with clothing, though even that can be difficult. When the crown is active it will appear over any clothing worn. It can be summoned once a trial and lasts up to two Breaks.


Fog - Unholy Shroud

Summoning from his domain of fog, Irkall can surround himself in a thick fog that expands out in a fifty-foot radius around himself. Once placed it will remain where summoned and will not follow him. This fog makes it hard to see beyond three feet in front of yourself and appears otherworldly, with a strange blue colouring. When inside this fog Irkall can see far clearer than others, his vision unimpaired by the smoke. This ability can allow for a quick escape, a stealthy approach to a mission or a way to terrify someone when needed. This ability doesn’t discriminate against allies or enemies, however, and is detrimental to anyone fighting by his side, obscuring the vision of allies alike.


Domination - Mindbreak

As part of his Domination domain Irkall can weaken the mental defences of another. Upon touching the skin of another sentient being, he can weaken their mind, making their resistance and discipline skills function one level lower than they actually are. As well as this, marks or magics that make them mentally resilient will function at half the effectiveness they would have otherwise. This can make them more susceptible to manipulation with magic, possession from ghosts or skills like intimidation or persuasion. The user will not be aware of what exactly has happened to them but will instead feel suddenly uneasy and threatened by his presence, knowing that he has done something to them, just not sure exactly what. How the user responds to this uneasy feeling is up to the PC its used on but can often result in sudden aggression or fear, and does nothing to weaken them physically - making it a risky ability to use against a strong opponent. This power can be used three times per trial and the effect lasts for five Bits on each target.


Approved here

[Irkall]

Mutations

"My body may have changed. But my resolve remains."

TBD

[Irkall]

Undead

"Rise, my army! Fight to avenge my lost love!"

TBD (Can't have any thralls yet till I am alive)