Lance Rayvis

Lance Rayvis

219

Dream

Chanda Desert

Knight

Yes

Knight

The simplest way to describe Lance's appearance would be that of a humanoid fox. A black-furred, albeit with patches of dark grey around the tips of his pointed, vulpine ears, the end of his tail, and his chest, black-haired with slight red tints here and there, red-eyed, humanoid fox. His build is fairly slim but with obvious strength behind it, and puts him at a solid 6'2", standing over many others; or closer to 6'6" if one counted the few inches his ears reach to. Besides the muzzle that extends from his face, the pointed canine ears, and the bushy-furred tail (and just fur in general), however, his form is perfectly human-like. His moderately-sized hands are the same shape as those of humans, his feet are something of a half-cross between human and canine, and his joints are otherwise the same as any human. The last thing one might note of his physical form, however, is the curious red markings around his left hand and half of that forearm.

In terms of attire... honestly speaking, he would be perfectly content wearing none, but certain expectations come with his position, giving him no choice on the matter. For more casual ventures, which is only so much of the time, he prefers a hooded black vest that he can keep open in front, and matching black pants; simple and comfortable, and thereby perfect for him. All other times he wears appropriately formal attire as the Knight of Chanda, keeping it to short sleeves regardless of the weather and more often than not letting the button-up shirts hang open in front. Not the most... dignified, perhaps, but it's simply what he feels is comfortable and suits him. When he can get away with it.

N/A

In fairly short and simple terms, Lance is generally a quite kind and caring person. He will often go out of his way to help out the people around him also affiliated with Chanda, most particularly the royals. As someone with little to either lose or gain (something he himself occasionally openly states), there is really no other way he can think of to live his life. Calm, pleasant, and a fair arbiter of the law when it becomes necessary; such is what usually sums it up.

But then, all 'lights' have a certain 'darkness' to him, and his own runs rather deep. His well-maintained public face is one thing, but he is not someone remotely afraid to do any dirty business, and he tends to do it well, and without mercy. So long as there are none around other than 'targets,' any semblance of kindness completely disappears to be replaced by pure, simple coldness. It is, one might say, something he struggles with, with occasional slips in his public life here and there that he tries to avoid or otherwise overshadow with something else. Such times he even occasionally comes to question himself, but his duty, he feels, keeps him stable.

Mostly, anyway.

A basic, silver longsword usually kept at his side; he rarely goes anywhere without it.

Shadowform: Using his base power, Lance can turn a piece of shadow into a solid form to shoot off, or briefly hold. [3 post cooldown]
Dark Pulse: True to its name, Lance slams his hand into the ground, creating a pulse of darkness that can push people off their feet in a circle out from him, for around ten feet. [3 post cooldown]
Shade: Also true to its name, Lance can temporarily darken the area around him, casting it in partial shadow. [2 post cooldown]
Light Burst: Taking some effort to partly 'reverse' his power, Lance can create a brief, relatively bright flash of light [2 post cooldown]
Guard: Taking from his own shadow, Lance can pull up a temporary shield of solid shadow in front of him... though the quicker he calls upon it, the weaker it is. [2 post cooldown]

How he was created and whether he was truly Dream or Nightmare was never quite clear. All he knew at the beginning was that he was there, and had a name; that much was good enough for him. So he would claim, at least.

From that point, with nothing in particular around, he merely took to aimless wandering. He bore no particular will toward anything, no destination in mind, just... a blank slate, yet possessing nothing of his own in any respect. Nor will nor skills nor reasoning for his existence... simply nothing. A fact, at least, that he felt needed to change, somehow or other. Such was the only thought that set him forward, the only thought he ever had.

Eventually he reached that which came to be called 'civilization,' and the first reaction of those surrounding him was... less than savory, suffice it to say. They called him a 'Nightmare,' enlisted a 'Dream' to 'remove' him, and, simply put, he didn't understand any of it. He just knew that, at the least, he wanted to survive, to gain even a small modicum of... meaning.

So the Dream was crushed by the so-called 'Nightmare,' and his place was not yet found. Certainly he couldn't stay around this place, lest he allow them time to send more after him. But he had a starting point, of sorts; he knew he was either Dream or Nightmare, and he knew that people seemed to hate Nightmares, so he would claim 'Dream' as his title. Whether it would work or not was something he couldn't be certain of, but it was all he had to go on. He'd made it thus far with so little; surely he could make it further.

The reactions of the next little civilized area he came upon were also less than savory, just as had been at the previous place he'd been, but this time he had a 'weapon'... of sorts. He claimed himself a 'Dream;' suffice it to say, the people were skeptical, but they did more than the people he'd previously met: they gave him a chance. Supposedly they had a few that could identify between Dreams and Nightmares, those two creatures between which the lines occasionally blurred, so they brought him to one. Then two.

Even from that point on he wasn't even certain whether he was really a Dream as he claimed, or in actuality a Nightmare as those before had claimed. In such uncertainty, his own claim remained; such was just how it had to be.

Over time, he steadily learned and grew, moved from place to place at times, became better at convincing people that he was truly a Dream rather than a Nightmare that was most people's first guess upon seeing his appearance. Never once did he form a Pact, or even have more than a vague inclination somewhere in his mind of them, for never once did he ever become close enough to someone to even consider it in the first place. A lone wanderer, completely independent of anything, until he came upon Candra. He started as just some wanderer, who people accepted regardless of whether he was truly Dream or Nightmare, both of whom resided freely within the region. But something as simple as that didn't feel enough; he wanted, needed more. So he found places to work, things to make himself of use with. He trained in various things, most of all combat, and eventually earned his share, so to speak.

So the wanderer became the Knight, and remained so, wholly unaging and watching time go by practically from the sidelines, for quite some time. So he remains, serving his duty as the local, loyal fox... though how far his loyalty actually stretches, especially without a Pact, could be anyone's guess.

Lance