Streamstrider

[STREAMSTRIDER]

STREAMSTRIDER

[/color]
of the AB Syndicate. [/color]

[/center]

CLASSIFIED INFORMATION[/color]
"And your name is... oh, dear." -Nuala. [/color]

»»FULL NAME:[/b] Streamstrider
»»AGE:[/b] He is known to be over four millennia in age, but in truth, this race is ageless, and there is no real way to tell how long one has really been alive.
»»OCCUPATION:[/b] N/A
»»FACTION:[/b] Fantasy Realm
»»SPECIES : [/b] Nightmare {Demon}
»»ALIGNMENT:[/b] Neutral-Evil


»»ABILITY: [/b] Tainted Dreams
One might say that a Nightmare’s ability is a little complicated at first, and must be explained. It is difficult for one who is not familiar with a Nightmare to determine the source or cause of an effect, much less discover the Demon from whom it came. This ability is not something that the Nightmare instigates; rather, it is something that is automatic, built into its system, something that simply happens. As a Nightmare is not naturally a corporeal creature, this ability reaches out to anyone in the creature’s presence, generally those persons within 10 feet of it. Those who “pass through” the creature’s presence retain more potent and fatal effects.

- - -Strength: When a person or creature is affected by the Nightmare’s presence, their dreams and subconscious are, as previously implied, tainted. Their dreams will begin to grow into nightmares, progressively getting worse and worse until most victims are afraid to even sleep, which many die of the lack of. Also, when a person is awake, they will also begin to see things, sometimes just faces, other times dead bodies, or anything of a grotesque nature. Like the dreams, these will progressively worsen over a few weeks. Combined with the nightmares of one’s sleep, many victims choose to “opt out” of life, or even die of a panic attack, which is one of the most common results. Directly “passing through” the Nightmare, or touching it in corporeal form, will cause the nightmares and visions to begin immediately and progress at a much quicker pace than usual, often reaching results within a few days. Through physical touch, he can at times control the images that cross the victim’s mind, or even retain them, if in human form.

- - -Drawbacks: Anyone who is affected by a Nightmare can easily remove the effects if they are touched by an Angel, which completely rids the victim of the taint. (However, a Nightmare often chooses to follow a particular victim, and by following the victim, keeping it at a constantly growing taint, clouded with its own severely dark taint, most Angels are kept at Bay, not wanting to be near so great an evil presence.) This ability cannot affect other Demons, and it cannot affect Angels, unless they touch his corporeal form. It also avoids holy places such as churches, and victims can go onto church grounds to temporarily nullify the effects of the taint. One can easily tell if a Nightmare is come close, before it’s in range of tainting you. To do this, you would simply need to carry around any holy Christian symbol, such as a cross pendant. When near, the object will grow warm, and if the Nightmare is getting close enough to taint the individual, the object with grow extremely hot and begin to deteriorate, in different ways, of course, depending on the object’s material. (In any corporeal form, this ability is limited to touch, though the effects are only temporary if it is the human form which is touched.)

Although not a part of the aforementioned ability, one thing that is notable about Nightmares is that, in their horse-like corporeal form, they will leave hoof prints on any surface they walk upon, remaining indented into even cement for about an hour after they’ve walked over it. It is a good way to determine the presence of a Nightmare, if you are familiar enough with them to tell what creature might have made the prints.



THE DETAILS[/color]
"Give it up nasty, we can see you." -Hellboy. [/color]

»»EYE COLOR:[/b] Red as the most vivid blood.
»»HAIR COLOR:[/b] Blacker than black.
»»HEIGHT:[/b] 25 hands (8.3 feet at the shoulders); 6’2” Human
»»PLAY BY:[/b] N/A

»»APPEARANCE: [/b]

As previously stated, Nightmares do not normally appear in a corporeal manner, choosing instead to remain in their naturally incorporeal form which, technically speaking, has no real form, merely an essence, a presence noticeable by elder Angels and Demons alike. All Nightmares, when taking a physical form, appear as horse-like creatures, some more horse-like than others, with appearances varying from one to another, and often generally oversized, to tell the truth. They are strong, malevolent in demeanor, and those who interact with their physical forms tend to discover a devilish hatred in their eyes, for everything. Streamstrider is a well known Nightmare among his kind, and among many Demons and Angels, and his appearance is quite distinct in comparison with others.

Powerful, strong, lean. To those who know horses, he may appear to be an over-sized Thoroughbred, just with a more muscular chest, shoulders and hindquarters. His legs are thick and sturdy, and his hovering form is a threatening one, dominating whatever space he occupies. His mane flows down over his shoulders and his tail barely tips the ground behind him, crimped in deep waves and seeming like a black, velvety mist as he moves. Even his hooves have a layer of long hair growing over their tops and at the back of his forelegs. This particular Nightmare has three spiraled horns on his head, descending down to above his nose in decreasing length, the longest being on his forehead. He also has sharp teeth, rather than the flat ones horses are known for having.

The more powerful of Nightmares can take on a human form, though in this form they are severely limited. They cannot do any harmful act to anyone, even in self defense—they can defend themselves, but not offensively—unless the victim is willing. As a human, Streamstrider appears to be rather the opposite of himself. Blue-eyed, dirty blond hair, and a bit of facial hair to boot. He always dresses nicely, wearing slacks and a button-up shirt, often with the first one or two unbuttoned. Overall, he looks quite harmless, but underneath the thin layer of fabric is a thick body riddled with solid muscle, one of the few things similar to his true form. He stands at a little above six feet tall with a slightly wide frame. He appears charming and handsome, and he has lured many a woman into bed with him through his smooth, fairly deep voice and his piercing blue eyes which betray nothing of his inner evil, appearing instead to be quite serene and gentle, albeit a little wild and slightly mischievous.

»»PERSONALITY: [/b]

Like any other Nightmare, Streamstrider enjoys the suffering of others. He walks deeply the sorrows of other creatures, fills their cups with pain and grief, and in the end tears people apart without remorse. Nightmares are generally apathetic Demons, truly vile and evil with no capability of raw, true emotion. Streamstrider is peculiar, and singular, in that he has developed that emotion, the ability to question and to reason, in his older age. He is bloodthirsty, and he is cruel, and most oftentimes appears apathetic toward everything, but he is not foolish and not without respect and courtesy. Those who respect him, who give him his “space”, are generally ignored, while he weeds out, while in human form, those he deems are in need of receiving justification.

He does not like humans, but he does not attempt to destroy the pure and holy, which are few and far between. He despises arrogance and loathes those who lay upon others their own condemnation when it is not theirs to give. Pride, gluttony, lust, sloth, wrath, envy, and greed, as they are portrayed in those who have human emotion, are detestable to him, and he finds those who revel in them to be sick. As surprising as it may be, he hates sinners. He hates everyone. He is created to sin and hate sinners. He is created to destroy, to hate, to bring down wrath. He envies. He is prideful. But he does not lust (though like most Demons, he is one to deceive and lure others into such temptations if possible), nor is he greedy or lazy. He simply does what he is meant to do. Destroy the condemned.

Streamstrider is not known for his mercy. In fact he is known for his cold nature and insanely gruesome and cruel dreams and visions. He does not accept apologies, no matter how sincere. Once he has marked you as his target, you’re a goner, and no amount of repentance will save you unless God himself intervenes (or, of course, an Angel helps you). He does not like sob stories. (Actually, he does not care much for those who talk a lot at all.) He does not like curse words or broken language, surprisingly enough. He would rather be proper. He cares for no one. Loves no one. Wants nothing out of his long life, and he is NOT patient for anything.


THE BACKGROUND[/color]
"I'm not a baby, I'm a tumor." -Tumor. [/color]

»»FAMILY TREE:[/b] No One
»»IDOLS:[/b] No One


»»HISTORY: [/b]

Streamstrider, as a Nightmare, has lived for a very long time, longer than most who seem to simply fade away. Nightmares do not just die. They are not just killed. They can be purged, or they can just not be. He never understood really why he was one of the few who remained as long as he had. Perhaps he was not just a baffling idiot, or maybe it was because he resisted his eager yearnings for the deaths of others. He resisted, for many, many centuries, revealing himself in human form. But, in the beginning, when he was younger, he was just like all the others, almost brainless in their instinctual needs for death. Whenever there was a birthing of their kind, it seemed as though people would just begin to die, like it was an epidemic. Not now, though. There were so few of them left.

One might consider Streamstrider to be an anomaly among his race of Demons, as the circumstances around which he grew affected him much more deeply than it did others. While his desire for death never waned, he began to understand tact. He discovered the necessity of understanding, of strategizing. Many of his kindred had been purged by powerful Angels. Streamstrider, in the wake of their destruction, held himself back, controlled himself, and let himself grow steadily stronger. Being around most Angels, especially those of lesser years than he, no longer bothers him to as great an extent as it once did. It is still painful to be in their presence, and he is sure it is dangerous, but it works the other way around as well, and he believes many Angels he has come across have kept this in mind.

Nothing truly significant has happened in his long life. Other Demons have at times beckoned him to help them in their efforts, but he usually refuses. He hates the idea of working for or even with another being. As he is, Demons are some of the most detestable creatures he knows, however ironic that may seem, and he hates them just as much as he hates humans, if not more so. Over the years, some Demons have discovered the hard way the gravity of their words and actions toward him really are, for as a corporeal, horse-like being, he is nothing any sane being would wish to face. Who, in their right mind, would wish to fight a creature that could simply vanish?




THE PLAYER[/color]
"I can't smile without you...." -Abe & Hellboy. [/color]

»»YOUR NAME:[/b] Streamstrider
»»GENDER:[/b] Female
»»AGE:[/b] 20
»»TITLE:[/b] Your Worst Nightmare

»»POST SAMPLE:[/b]

It did not take long for him to see that she was not a good swimmer by any stretch of the imagination. He watched as she went under, paralyzed for a moment, uncertain of what he should do. He had never been in a situation in which someone would need his help swimming. If anything, he was the one forcing them under, beneath him, outside of him. But he did not have to think about it much. Feeling her hands touch his body was such a strange sensation. Someone else touching him, rather than him touching them. Hurting them. He had been too out of it before to notice the feeling of it, but something about it felt different.

She was no longer so warm as before, which he quickly attributed to the coldness of the water, and the chill of his skin. Frost formed on the surface of the water around him, drifting away with the current but continuously forming. Winter’s chill was here around him. Always. And it was still summer. He wondered if, when she went away from him, it was because she did not want to touch him or because she simply wanted to get out of the water. Maybe he had nothing to do with it, but he could not stop wondering. Watching her climb up onto the bank, dirt marring her body, he could not help but wish he could smile as how astonishing she looked at that moment

The dirt only added to the beauty, in his mind. It did not make her ugly. He slinked back as she created the fire, but after, seeing the water drop onto her body from her hair made him . . . excited somehow. Perhaps it was just the idea of a woman getting wet. When she lied down and touched the tips of her fingers to the water, his breath caught in a way that surprised him. Quickly his guard went up again, a little troubled by the new feelings. His tail curled around in the water, reaching up to the surface and flicking into the air briefly. It had become something of a habit when he was thinking.

He tilted his head as she seemed to inspect herself. Her wounds did look better, and it appeared that she did not feel the pain of them, but he made it a goal in his head to develop those abilities further, knowing he had the power but not the control to properly heal another’s wounds. It may not be useful to him as much as to others, but it would be nice to have the options. He ducked slightly into the water, where his black eyes were still above the top, and in answer to her question, he only flicked the tip of his tail above the water’s surface again. Of course, he had. He would not have yanked her into the water otherwise. At least for now.

Her stare was engaging to him. Her hazel eyes, accented by the brown color of her hair. The freckles on her cheeks were befitting and brought out the color of them. How many times had he had the chance to stare at a woman’s face like this? Not many, and none he could recall. It was so intriguing! What was she thinking? Did she hate him? Did she also find him interesting, or did she secretly wish she could run, only afraid he would chase her? He doubted the latter. He only chased people when they were in the water, and when he felt it would be satisfying to do so. Some people just were not worth the energy.

Again he pushed himself away slowly, wary of her re-entering the water, something he thought she would detest. It was her smile that confused him, astounded him, and as she started speaking, he allowed himself to come forward, though still uncertain, not knowing how to react to a happy face, especially her happy face. This night had turned into something so odd so rapidly. His body tensed, and when she let go of the bank and tried to swim, he could not force himself move. It was like he was frozen in place, for once in his life afraid to move. But as soon as he saw he go under, he immediately dove forward and reached out to grab her arm to pull her back above where she could breath.

He caught her eyes, but he could only look at them for a few seconds before turning his head away. He went to place one of her hands on his shoulder, beckoning that she hold on to him for support. If she complied, he would begin showing her how to move her arms. Teaching her how to move her legs would prove difficult, at least somewhat. He had something in mind that few humans had mastered. Maybe she would.