Full Name: Spectre Glyph
Race: Ghost Phoenix
Age: 924
Appearance (all): [You must be registered and logged in to see this image.]He stands at six foot one with pale powdery skin, Glyph is an albino. His eyes are red with red and black strain bags under them most days. He has long bony fingers with black nails that curve dirrectly into claws; in his mouth his teeth are serrated. Glyph as well is thin and built. He never wears anything but white seldomly gray colors. His preference of dress is long sleeved shirts, long pants, and bare feet. His shirts as well as his long coats have slits made into them. The slits are openings for where his wings push out from. His wings are featherd and black with a wing span of six feet. Most days his wings are hiden from sight. Glyph's hair is always short and messy but mostly looks spiked at the tips while it lays flat. Being albino he has no skin color or hair color. At night his eyes glow yellow like a demon's.
Personality: Spectre & Glyph act as two.
The Ghost Phoenix is a quiet man and rarely speaks, he speaks mainly five words but at times more. Spectre is also a bery calm man but has a tendency to butt in when not needed even though he tries to stay quiet. He's never known to harm people - he just stays at home, most of the time. His kindness is a trap usually. The normal personality as stated once before however is shy and quiet, hardly talks save for stammers. This is Spectre the nicer more devious one.
By darkness he was granted a second chance and created a darker more sinister and torturous personality to sate his blood lust. Glyph. In a dark twist he is more of the one you would call from a nightmare. Lust for blood, killing, fighting, and death his life was driven by this alone. Originally he was a killer. Butchering the living he gets his kicks, his tallons are his pride and joy. Clipping a feather will get you killed or hurt. Glyph speaks in full sentences and is more poetic without the stammer. Once Glyph shows his deciet can be your last desire.
He feeds like a vampire sometimes because it replenishes his wounds.
As of a long time prior Spector once was known as Leonardo Flyer. He gave that up and "killed" that personality. However it came back after a bout with a demon. Leonardo is a quiet structured man who is the total opposite of Spectre. He is a good man and tries to redo what he has done. He is gentle, kind, but like Spectre he does have a darkness that he embraces and uses to aid him and not torment. He can be confused easily and absolutely despises his other sides. He is the invert of Spectre.
Strengths:
- Dark Magic
- Water
- Dark Runes
Weaknesses:
- Light Magic
- Fire
- Children
- Holy Runes
- Cursed {Holy} Celtic Knot
Special skills/traits: * Able to move things with his will but nothing bigger than he is
* Controls the darkness
* Has black feathered wings that push out from scars on his back
* Feeds like a vampire to heal himself
Background: Born back in the age of the Vikings, Celts, and Saxons his kind raomed the skies like Valkirie. He was born Albino and was discared once he was the age of twelve. He was born a creature of Darkness and it served him well. Ghost Phoenixes were evil, they were killers. He was a killer and soon like a sacred Irish Banshee he was an Omen of death. Many who saw him, died the same night. For years till he was about twentyfour of age people began to uprise and hunt after him as well as the others like him. Fleeing he came to a settlement that had already prepared for him. A Tre'bu'het Balista was waiting as they scanned the sky for the rummor of the white ghost.
He was flying over the town when his wing was hit with a lance. Crying out in pain he fell into a church mortuary. His body ached as he stood up and pulled the lance out, he walked with his hurt wing into the night street and faced the Celtic warriors who screamed demon as the saw him. Wings flared out, claws in blood, teeth barred, and anger in his glowing eyes. He had flashes of how the good Phoenixes treated him like dirt, how Humans treated him like a demon. He hated them. Hated them all. He attacked the group but was soon chased to the midled of town where he was chained down. Moved onto a pedistal. Hissing he was soon hearing chants and he began to writhe and scream as light errupted around the stone. It was a spell that sealed him as a statue in the middle of the town.
His final stance was of anger and clawing out one arm while screaming to the sky, wings flared out and chains pinning him so he could never fly away. The pedistal had the seal. It was four feet tall as well as four feet wide. No one was to touch the statue of the Demon. For nearly 8 hundred years he was incased in stone but when the seal was worn away due to storms the statue began to wake. The village was gone to rubble. Upon waking the creature screamed and stone flew all around. He fell to his knees coughing and covering himself by his wings. He cried out and stood screaming into the stormy air and took to the sky. Crying out like a banshee the Ghost Phoenix was awake.
First thing he noticed was the age was somewhat similar but still not quite. He was acceptant. He adapted.
In pain from the lance from the years before he attacked a hiker and ate him. Huffing he looked about. He had to blend in, as well as hide. With determination he became a demon once more, however this time he hunted at night. He blended in with the ages and as soon as a war was to be had he was worse he sided with both sides and butchered everyone he could. Feeding off them. Though as the years progressed he as well more than deeptive. He was smarter, less ferrral. He used the new ways to live, as well as by now he had a home and was not as welthy as most would have for living this long. He was only worried for himself and how he lives, nothing more. Money he could care less for.
Modern days did not scare him anymore. He learned his age and it was sell with him now.
The Celtic Demon was back.
