Name: Arkus Anitoche.
Gender: Male.
Age: Late thirties, early forties.
Species: Carapace.
Kingdom: Prospite.
Psychological Traits
Arkus is a lesson in dichotomy. A veteran soldier, he fought for the majority of the Great Alternian War, where he discovered his xenophilia for Trolls. He suppressed this, however, and violently swings between xenophobia and philia. He has since developed a dependency on alcohol as a coping mechanism, but moderates his intake to avoid conflict with his position as Royal Ancillary. He perceives the King to be incompetent, and believes he would have been a more suitable King. Arkus has enormous respect for the Queen and found himself to be flushed for her when they first met, but due to her constant coddling of the King and attempts to undermine his influence, he has developed blacker feelings. He tends to be very severe in his decisions and dealing with others, preferring permanent and logical solutions to what is right. He is a fierce patriot and supports his kingdom with every fiber of his being, even if he doesn't support the monarchy.
Physical Description
He is a white carapace, his stint as a soldier leaving him in remarkable shape for someone his age. He has scars crisscrossing up his arms from various skirmishes, as well as a small crescent on his chest from a well-placed arrow. His career-ending injury left his lower left leg crippled. He refuses to use a cane, instead wearing his limp with pride.
Background
One could argue that Arkus committed his first murder the night he was born.
He certainly saw it that way.
His mother died giving birth to him. Swathed in blankets, his little white face screwed up in a shrieking scream heir to every newborn, he was carried from the delivery room as they worked desperately to restart his mothers heartbeat.
She died on the table.
Arkus came from a long line of sub-Royalty, and as such he was placed under the care of the Royal Court. He should have counted himself lucky; his position in life was one free of want, and of relative luxury. He was fed and raised on Prospite morals, groomed for life in politics in his spare time. Often, though, he was left to his own devices, to wander the palace aimlessly, learning the ticks and tocks of Royal life. The halls were empty and massive. He could loose himself in the labyrinth, and he did.
The day he met the king-to-be was as uneventful as the rest of his youth. The child king needed a companion, and since the orphan was available he was groomed to keep him company. "Groomed" is a relative term, since Arkus was simply shoved into a golden room with the Royal Brat and told to behave.
It was as awkward as hell.
He was not permitted speak to the Royalty. He was not permitted to make eye contact with the Royalty. He was not permitted to physically interact with the Royalty. He wasn't even allowed play with his toys. Hours dripped by with purposeless monotony, standing by silently as the king-to-be played quietly with his fantastic golden trinkets.
The first few black tendrils of jealousy began to worm their way through his skull.
The day came when they were old enough to begin their education. Arkus picked up the information as if it were second nature. As a member of the sub-Royalty, his education paralleled that of the king-to-be's, and with an almost single-minded purpose he devoured the lessons presented to them both. His progress and intuitive understanding of political science earned him the admiration and respect of his tutors. Had fate been kinder, his understanding of the mechanics behind running a kingdom would have earned him the throne. As it was, he sat by quietly, watching as the king-to-be slept and doodled through his lessons.
The tendrils twisted painfully through his veins.
The queen, though...she was a rare gem. She just got it. None but her could match his progress, surpass him, even. An alabaster beauty, the model of poise, grace, and intelligence, a flower amidst a desert of dull. She was beautiful, and he found himself flushing for her. After all, he was intelligent, civil--fit to lead a kingdom even! Didn't he deserve a bastion of happiness? A ray of sunshine in his fairly miserable life? She grew flushed for the King. He guessed he didn't.
That tendril condensed into something blacker; a serpent coiled in his chest, its head resting on his heart.
He remembered the day the King died. It was a sad day; black drapes hung from every window in the kingdom, and he stood by quietly as the body was carried somberly through the streets, raised on the backs of the loyal. Flowers rained down slowly in a nearly surreal fashion, crushed underfoot as they carried their lord to the Royal catacombs to be buried with the Kings of Old. The new King and Queen were crowned the next day. Arkus watched as his childhood friend settled into the cushioned throne, ring on his finger and Queen by his side.
HE got the kingdom.
HE got the throne.
HE got the Queen.
The black serpent hissed and buried its teeth into his heart, pumping venom into his very soul.
He grit his teeth and forced a smile as he was chosen as Royal Ancillary.
The King had no clue.
It was surprisingly easy to bend him to his will. The King was open to suggestion, content to let others make decisions for him. Incompetent. Stupid. It would have been childs play for Arkus to institute his will, if it weren't for the Queen. Wary of his intentions, she fought him at every turn, wedging herself between the two of them. It was a frustrating distraction, but there were chambers that even the Queen did not have access to. Behind closed doors, where the Royal decisions were made, he spread his poison. It was only after orders were sent and treaties were signed that the Queen got her chance to shield the King from his insidious words. More often than not, his word became law. It was only after the war started did she seize her chance.
She conscripted him.
She shipped him off to war, far away from the court and far away from the King. Just like that, all he had been working for was whisked out right from under him. He was given command of 5th Company and shoved into the middle of Hell. It was there he saw the trolls for the first time. Standing in the middle of the war-torn fields of Alternia, he saw her.
The Condesce.
Wading through carapaces, black and white, like a scythe slipping through a field of wheat. Tall. Majestic. Fierce. Graceful. Her body an instrument of beauty and destruction. She was gone just as soon as she came, blood staining the field in her wake.
It was at that moment he became acutely aware of how perversely attractive trolls were. Their gray skin. Their smooth, elegant horns. Their brilliant, colorful eyes. It disgusted him. His feeling weren't natural. These...things weren't natural. He suppressed his feelings, covering his xenophilia with a phobia. He had his troops target the aliens as often as they did the Dersites.
He served with distinction, often times fighting on the front lines himself. It was in the waning months of the war that he slipped up, he and his escorts getting forced into the nearby caverns under heavy Dersite artillery. Battered and wounded, they limped through the massive underground passages for hours, his men getting picked off one by one. Violent, tenacious trolls in the their element tore them to shreds. Arkus ran his men ragged, pushing them to the exit, only to be ambushed meters from freedom. The next thing he knew, he was on board a Prospite hospital ship, headed home. Leg ruined and Company dead, he was honorably discharged and returned to the Royal Court.
With a limp and a few war stories under his belt, the King welcomed him back with open arms.
Things had changed, however. During his absence, the Queen had dug her nails in, strengthening her hold over the King. His positioned had been weakened, and he was finding it harder and harder to exercise control over the King he had once so easily ruled. The war ended soon after his return, and at the Queens urging the remaining survivors were adopted to the kingdom. He fought the command tooth and nail, needling the King against such a careless ruling. Much to his displeasure, the Queen reigned supreme, and as punishment he was given a young charge of his own, a small low-blood. It was torturous, to be forced to care for the creature he both lusted for and reviled against.
He did the bare minimum, letting the child run rampant through the kingdom. Only by avoiding his charge could he resist the temptation to strangle the brat, or worse. Still, the few times they were in the same room, he would catch his eye wandering. Seeing these creatures again after so many years, having one living in his own home...it brought feelings he'd kept buried for so long. He hated it. Only during the rare moments he'd had too much to drink would his facade break.
It nearly crippled him the day of the coupe.
The trolls had gained control of Derse. Not just any troll-the Condesce.
He slipped. In his panic, he urged the King to let their kingdom burn; to let the Condesce have her way. Regime change is natural, is it not? Why should Prospite meddle in Dersite affairs? "It is for the best."
The Queen would not have it.
If the King would let himself be ruled by his wife, he'd just have to take matters into his own hands. Taking a gamble, he incited riots amongst the citizens of Propsite, beneath the Queens very nose. High bloods were lynched in the streets; it was with a strange mixture of satisfaction and regret he watched the gutters pool with violent violet blood.
It was a necessary sacrifice, he told himself.
They could not let the same thing happen to Prospite that happened to Derse.
If the Queen wouldn't do what needed to be done, then he would.
RP Sample
He hurled the empty bottle across the room. It shattered against a marble pillar, raining onto the tile floors in a symphony of broken glass.
"CHILD, GET IN HERE!"
It had been a bad day. She did it again, undermining him right in front of the damn King like she did every fucking time-
"WHERE ARE YOU?!"
He screamed himself hoarse, picking up another bottle of wine. He fumbled for the cork screw before growing frustrated and smashing the neck against the end table. The vermillion liquid spilled from the fracture and the head dropped to the floor. He brought his lips to the broken neck and gulped, cutting his already red-stained lips on the shards. He coughed and swore, blood oozing into the gaps.
"I WILL MURDER YOU, CHILD, IF YOU DON'T-"
He caught sight of his charge, stepping quietly around the corner. Arkus grinned, a monstrous and bloody sight.
"Heh, I thought you weren't going to...uh...come! Come here." He patted his lap, scootching further back into his arm chair. "Come sit on uncle Arkie's lap. I'm gonna tell you a war story."
The troll bowed it head and crossed the room silently. Without a word, he sat on it's guardians knee. The troll knew better than to speak when Arkus had been drinking. He took another drought, smacking his lips and savoring the fruity nectar.
"Have I ever told you about the time you bastards fucked up my leg?" He grinned, phantom pain shooting up his crippled limb. It was a rhetorical question, of course. It was his favorite story.
"Those fuckin' Derse devils were raining fire, and I was a total fuckin' idiot-" He took another drink, flecking droplets of wine onto the troll huddled on his knee. "So I thought we'd camp out in the caverns. Quiet. Underground. Safe." He laughed, slopping wine all over the floor.
"But you...you fuckers just wouldn't leave us alone." He pointed a finger accusingly at the child, poking him in the jaw. The digit traced the childs neck line, lingering on the collar bone. "Again. And. Again. And. Again. D'you know...how many men? I lost?" He spoke haltingly, eyes resting on the few bare patches of his charges skin. "I figured we were...fucked...so I weighed our options. Get shelled. By the, uh, artillery, out there in the fuckin' open. Or die underground like rats. I ran my men back up to the surface. We...uh..." He distracted himself with the rapidly-diminishing bottle of wine, his finger unconsciously catching the collar of his tunic.
"Ambushed. Like. Fuckin'...ambushers." The alcohol had taken full hold, and despite his seated position he grabbed hold of the trolls shirt to remain upright. "Dead. All dead. We fucking, uh...slaughtered. Each other, we did. YOU-" He pushed weakly, accusingly. "You STABBED ME in the fucking leg. Thought I'd lose it! Ha! HA HA HA. But I didn't! And I killed 'em. All of 'em. 'Cept one."
The bottle fell from his fingers and it rolled away, but he didn't even notice. The world was already swimming with black. "Little troll. Couldn't have been much older 'n you. Beggin' me. Fucking GROVELLING for his life. On the floor, bleedin' like a...oinkbeast. Asked me for mercy. Heh. Know what I did?"
He sobered up for a split second, cupping his young charges face gently, tenderly. He ran a thumb over his lips, marveling in its beautiful, gray skin, its curvy, orange horns.
"Stabbed 'im. Stabbed him in his stupid, troll face. Again, and again, and again...then I passed out. Too much blood loss!" He snorted and paused, trying to remember what happened next. He noticed his hand, held shakily over the trolls lips. Arkus froze.
"I don't...Get off me. Get...OUT-Get off me, GET OUT OF HERE-"
His voice rose to a shriek, trembling with rage.
"Get the FUCK OUT, you STUPID FUCKING-"
And just like that he was gone. Arkus blinked, the trolls footsteps fading in the distance.
"Fuckin'...troll."
He sat there alone and drunk, silence pressing in all around him.
"Fuckin' trolls..."
OOC
Holy hell, this is long. Hey guys, Eq here. This is my OC, and I hope you like it! I welcome any and all comments, constructive or otherwise.
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