Post by Dieter Wolfram on Oct 9, 2017 8:07:20 GMT -5
Dieter Alexander Wolfram
Real Age: Unknown
Dark Knight / Clan Hunter
Sir Wolfram is what some might refer to as a wallflower; ever-present yet seldom noticed. To those he’s sworn fealty to or befriended, he is known for his loyalty, unwavering patience and kind-hearted nature. He was further shaped by the benevolent actions of Lord Belias, frequently finding kindred souls among orphaned children, pickpockets and those with broken families. Due to his upbringing in constant conflict, he was conditioned to be the type of person to values strength and to cherish each moment; you never knew if it would be your last. When instructing someone in any manner, he is quite enthusiastic and frequently preaches the importance of the most minute detail; this particular trait has resulted in him being labelled as a perfectionist. Who could blame him though? After all, the skills that he teaches could very well be the difference between life and death on the battle field. His experience on the battlefield has transitioned into his abilities to mentor, prompting him to be quick-witted and versatile; never afraid to pursue an open avenue.
It is noted that Dieter is quite persistent, especially in his pursuits and endeavors of locating either Lord Belias’ or auracite. He is adamant on the fact that Lord Belias is out there somewhere, unable to truly accept that his Lord has been slain. This stubbornness translates well into his resiliency, especially given the fact that nearly his entire life has been one never-ending battlefield. Dieter is also quite curious and quite mischievous; these attributes coupled together often lead others to believe he is playful. Alas, Dieter is a man of many faces, only shedding away the mask when he’s entered a battlefield. Once he’s stepped onto the battlefield, he is capable of effortlessly cutting himself off from his emotion and grows cold and callused. Dieter truly believes that his entire essence is meant to serve and protect those he deems worthy, belittling the value and importance of his own life. On the battlefield, Dieter is easily described as berserker.
He bears an unquestionable distain for those who are weak, more so if they make no efforts to better themselves; improvement no matter how marginal is respectful in his eyes.
Among Ivalican astrologists subsists a belief; one’s fate is preordained, determined by the heavens and so-called gods. Twelve would rise to reverence beneath Lady Altima, The High Seraph; each of which held titles refleing their overwhelming might. These Twelve were blessed with a sought-out ability, the gift to cross between the veils that divided the Empyreal Plain and Ivalice. In time, these Twelve would come to be known by many names, Lucavi, Scions, and to many others the scourge of mankind. Dieter’s faith lies beneath their ranks, a lesser daemon destined to faithfully serve as a vassal.
Dieter Wolfram was born on the 2nd of the modern month of April during the Second Archaeodaemon’s War ; a strife following the death of their messiah, Altima. In the absence of their matriarch, they fell under the command of Hashmal, The Bringer of Order, whom would lead the remaining eleven Scions in their efforts to resurrect Altima. Alas, the Order Bringer’s attention was fixated solely on this cause and as such chaos erupted within the lower ranks. This chaos quickly evolved into a war, one fueled by desire to be deemed worthy to stand alongside one of the remaining Scion; their only chance of freedom.
In an effort to protect her child from harm, Lady Galetias’ willingly sacrificed herself. She’d imbued her pendant with nearly all of her life force to erect a powerful ward. Unfortunately, such unprecedented usage of magick was not without its’ own hidden ramification. In her haste, she’d committed Dieter to a two-decade long slumber; a curse wrought by a mother’s love and desperation. In one last ditch effort, she’d clutched at her heart as her body began to crystallize. Her alabaster flesh turned into a dark blue sapphire, one that sunk into Dieter’s slumbering form. By the time his father, Lord Ipos’ discovered the sudden influx of magick within the castle, he was too late to save his wife. He called upon his most trusted vassal, Sir Naberius, requesting protect his child in his stead.
His father crystallized himself, creating a physical representation of his eons of experience on the battlefield. It manifested itself as a rich ruby-red gem that sunk into his child’s chest alongside his wife’s sapphire. For the next decade, Dieter’s consciousness interacted with a specter of his mother. She provided him with a wealth of knowledge that ranged from their native tongue, how to cook, hunt, and trap. Her last moments were spent cradling her son, forever imprinting the memory of her deep sapphire blue eyes, her hoary hair, and how she’d smelt of vanilla and lilac.
Fortunately, Dieter wasn’t left in solitude as now his father’s spirited materialized to teach Dieter about the Art of War and the way of the sword. Centuries ticked by in what felt like a tortuous eternity. Each day was endless training drills and lessons of leadership. Their time grew short and his last memory of his father is standing above him, his blade pressed lightly to his neck; he’d bested him once in their entire century together. Upon awakening from his slumber, he was greeted by Sir Naberius whom was already on a knee. Sir Naberius would accompany Dieter for quite some time, until he’d sacrificed his life to protect Dieter from a group of daemons.
For the first time ever, Dieter found himself alone with nothing but his sword by his side. This marked Dieter’s first steps towards becoming a Dark Knight . For what felt like an eternity, he’d found himself locked in countless bouts, ones that ended with Dieter absorbing the crystalline remains of his foes; it instilled him with more knowledge of the world around them. Strangely enough, he never felt fear on the battlefield instead he felt a sense of serenity. This would change the day that he met Belias the Gigas.
The Scion had returned to Empyreal Plain in the guise of a simple archaeodaemon. A rogue clan of lesser daemon had decided to attack the lone archaeodaemon, not realizing that they were attacking one of the Scion. Dieter witnessed this lone creature turn into a hulking giant that tore the ground asunder, his flames reducing those who opposed him to nothing more than ash scattered by the wind. The man before him was truly death incarnate, effortlessly snuffing out the life of those who dared to oppose him. Dieter understanding that even if he’d lived for a thousand years would be nothing more than a speck of dust to this creature. This thought alone caused his knees to buckle forcing him to his knees. The Gigas saw this and approached the knelt Dieter. He cupped Dieter’s face in between of his fingers forcefully craning his head upwards.
Dieter’s emerald eyes remained fixated to the ground, understanding he was unworthy to gaze upon such a being. This creature had to be one of the Scions’ that his mother and father had spoken of. The beast had chuckled to itself, it saw that Dieter could be obedient, a useful tool for its endeavors in Ivalice. It figure began to shrink down to that of a normal Hume, one by the name of Vellius, the Warlock. He’d informed Dieter that he now belonged to him, that he’d become his sword and shield, that his life was no longer his own and that he was only allowed to die when commanded to do so.
Dieter obediently nodded his head, biting his lip to prevent himself from crying out as the Scion branded the back of his right hand with his mark.
The next few years of Dieter’s life were spent acting as Vellius’ ever-present body guard. It wasn’t necessarily dangerous work but it was rewarding. Belias imparted him with his undeniable knowledge of flame magick. Alas, these good times were going to come to an abrupt end due to Ramza and this gang. Dieter had been dispatched to the Zeirchele Falls in order to investigate rumors of a discover cavern that was claimed to have a powerful grimoire within it. Unfortunately, there was no degree of truth to this rumor. The cavern was merely a monsters’ den. By the time he’d returned, he’d found nothing but carnage and the remains of his fellow brethren. There was no sign of Lord Belias. In response to this chain of events, Dieter willingly entered a period of statis, crystallizing himself for some time in hopes the Belias would find him.
Once he'd awakened, Dieter was discovered by a huntress named Ysera, whom ended up leading her clan in an effort to get more information and adjust to the newfound changes.
Dieter’s dusky emerald eyes narrowed, honing in on a cluster of bushes that was a mere five feet away, uncertain if he’d imagined the rustling; it could easily have just been the frigid night air. Still, he found his right hand instinctively inching towards Ardonlight, the Fell-sword that hung from his left side. The tips of his fingers gingerly traced the dilapidated, onyx-dyed leather, its’ presence instilling him with unexplained ease. This feeling only intensified as his fingers settled perfectly into the groves he’d worn into the leather through countless hours of brandishing this blade. His left hand firmly grasped the sheathe, anchoring it to his side as he unsheathed his blade with an eerily fluid motion. In spite of Dieter’s lithe build, he effortlessly wielded what should have been considered a two-handed sword with one hand. His unoccupied left hand was extended outwards as he began to chant to himself. His words acted as a catalyst to ignite the mana he’d begun to extrude.
” Oh ye benevolent Lord of Fire, guide your unwavering vessel through the twilight’s encroaching darkness.”
A quivering mass of currant red flames materialized in his left hand, excitedly dancing across his outstretched palm. It helped illuminate the shadows that encroached, repelling them and exposing their secrets. He could hear the irritated cries of goblins as their attempts at a sneak attack had been foiled. Their banshee like screeching grew in intensity as they emerged from the woodwork, some brandished well-kept daggers that they’d likely stolen from adventurers or off a merchant’s caravan. He’d also noted some held nothing more than a rusted broadsword. In their eyes, it didn’t matter what weapon they wielded, they had the advantage of numbers; they’d have been right if they were well trained. Dieter’s lips slowly curved upwards into a playful smile that quickly turned predatory. He didn’t bother to wait for them to make the first move as his leg muscles tightened for a brief instance before he surged forward. His right foot connected with the ground just a few inches away from one of the goblins, its’ eyes went wide in shock.
It tried to turn tail and run but got no more than a step away before Dieter’s blade fond refuge in its back. He chuckled to himself as he pressed forward further burying his blade into the beast’s back. He felt the momentarily resistance from its’ muscles and perhaps a bone.
Its comrades had been dissuaded from making any advances from this show of brutality. They merely looked amongst one another, silently urging one another to be brave enough to attack this lone adventurer. For a split second, no one did anything except listen to the cry of the goblin as it began to suffocate on its’ own blood. Once it went silent, one of its’ clansmen screeched in defiance and charged Dieter. He didn’t either bother to remove his blade from the corpse but slammed his left hand forward. His hand closed around the goblin’s face, firmly anchoring the tips of his fingers as the currant flames quickly seared its’ flesh and ignited its hair.
He released goblin, once it’s struggle had ceased and its’ still burning corpse served as a makeshift torch. His attention turned to the remaining goblins, each of who began to inch away from him. He couldn’t exactly let them go, it’d be unbecoming of Belias’ Dark Knight. . Over the course of a few minutes, he’d reduced them all to lifeless husk.
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