Name: Leonidas
Age: 31
Gender: Male
Appearance: Standing at 6'3, bedecked in a gleaming bronze breastplate and bronze stripped Pteruges, his shins protected by a smiliarly radiant pair of greaves, with a cloak drenched in deep crimson swathed around his shoulders. His bronze skin has been weathered and scarred from years of fighting and training under the Ocrean sun, his face bearing a roman nose and dark brown eyes that burn like twin coals, with locks of deep black draping to just beneath his shoulders.
Home Universe (optional): Ocrean Odyssey (an original setting)((World name is Raja))
Background: Stories have abound of kings and armies throughout the many centuries, clashing for control of the earth and all it's bounty. Stories of Tyrants and Saints, Champions and Devils, some great, others terrible, all of them driven by willpower the likes of which were unknown to common mortals, so great they could command their own immortal souls to project outward and onto the field of war.
Even more stories abound about the beasts who brought an end to the era of Kings and Heroes however. Towering, cunning predators, with scales like those of lizards, wings that could blot out the sun, talons capable of ripping a man in half with one swing and breath that could burn, melt, shred, or fry that same man, seemingly all on a whim- they were called many things- Dragons, Wyrms, Sky Lords, Flame-tongues, Scaled Kings -but regardless their name, one thing was certain:
The world, and the men who had once dominated it, were left all but able to tremble against them. They're souls were great, but the Sire of these beast, a great a massive shadow of the purest night, his power was like an ancient god, descending upon the world and laying waste the any and everything that appeared before him and his brood. One by one, nations fell, civilizations destroyed, and empires torn apart from within.
The Ocrean Isles, was just one such nation. an Archipelago, known for it's constant sunshine and the warm, crystal waters of it's shores, and the wisdom of it's king. Wisdom however, does little when an Elder Wyrm is assailing your capital and razing everything to the ground with a storm of fire and ash. When the Dragon's legion finally made their way to Ocrea, the Royal keep fell within a day, and with the king dead, his advisers trying and failing to organize a defense against the beasts assailing them, and the highest echelons of it's army and nobility more intent on cutting their own rise to power out the swath of chaos, there was little left for the island's future... except civil war.
For twenty, long, long years. Lords and Generals and Officers, carving up the remains of the land after the fall, taking to the killing field to settle their ambitions and their differences alike. All while trying to fight off those Wyrms who remained behind to scour the land, searching, lusting after something- what it was, unknown to mortal minds. Twenty long years of strife...
Twenty years that Leonidas never forgot. A mere boy, born of common blood in some hamlet by the sea when the country fell into ruin, and the Mage Wyrm Sitanas began his scouring of the Isles. Death, destruction, hate, all things Leonidas had learned plenty of that day, as the Black Dragon descended upon his home, and like it was nothing, stole the lives of his people, and moved on.
Twnety years that Leon spent training. Day in, Day out. Twenty years letting his rage become his will, and his will become the medium through which his very soul projected itself out into the world beyond, like the kings and heroes of not so terribly long ago.
Twenty years spent learning every weakness the Wyrms had, every habit they shared, every way they thought. Hunting them down, starting small first, and building up, bit by bit, clawing his way through more mature foes, until at long last, he had tasted of so much of their blood, he had may as well been one of them.
By the time he was thirty, Men and Wyrm alike knew his name, men seeking to recruit his spear to their banner, and Wyrms trembling before his might, wanting nothing more in the world than to destroy this mortal who had somehow gained the power to slay gods. Leonidas took no sides however, for the civil war that tore his homeland apart had no meaning to him, as far as he cared. He did however, take Disciples... 4 men, each from vastly different walks of life who he trained in the art of slaying, and with them, continued his endeavor to free the Isles of their Draconian Occupiers, and eventually.. the world as well.
But there was no greater way to do that, than to hunt down the father of Draconian kind. The mage wyrm, The Black Dragon... Sitanas. With the deaths of so many of his children, surely, the Father would take notice before long... all Leonidas and his disciples need do was keep killing them.
And Take notice the Father did. On the Iron Hill, Man and God did battle. Two souls the likes of which had never before walked the earth, fiercely entangled to decide the fate of all. Leonidas went alone to that hill, sending each of his disciples away, that they may go on and raise up their own apprentices, and the art of Slaying spread throughout the world, even if he himself fell to the Father.
But falling to the Sire seemed not to be what the Fates had in store for the Dragoneer. The Mage Wyrm's power made the very earth itself quake and tides wretch with ferocity, but regardless what the Father threw at Leonidas, he could not keep the mortal down. Always, the Dragon Slayer got back up, each time faster and faster than the last, each time his strength greater than before, and the Father finding himself harder and harder pressed to bring an end to his rebellion, each blow from Leonidas tearing more and more flesh from his body, scales ruined, wings that once blotted out the sun tattered and twisted from his fury. Even the Sire's eyes were not safe when the Dragoneer drew near for the final time, his own body ragged and his life dwindling, and it was that moment, with both the King of men and Dragons bloodied and beaten into pulps, that Leonidas stood over Sitanas' mighty neck, jaws grasped in his bare hands, and the Slayer wrenched. And Wrenched. And Wrenched once more, his soul flaring bright every time, until, just before he heard the final, glorious snap of flesh, sinew, muscle and bone that would spell victory for all mankind...
Their fight was over. Sitanas fetched from under Leonidas at the very last possible moment, plucked up by Discord just as Leon's soul burned like the very wrath of the sun itself and his strength collapsed the very earth and iron beneath where they had once fought, met not of the Dragon King when the dust cleared... but instead just ruined earth, and Leonidas himself found an approaching Agent of Harmony not long after...
Character Theme:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-kioBCb3fRwBattle Theme:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Rry4Pqpo3Og