Name: Alishar Jizan
Country Affiliation: Heliohapt
Race: Human
Tier: D-Tier [Novice]
Class: Beast-Tamer
Age + Birthdate: 17 // 1/7
Gender: Male
Sexuality: Demisexual
Personality: A petty little man, who is driven by a desire to erase his past. Raised in the slummiest slums, by the slummiest people, Alishar has been exposed to the ugliest sights, sounds, and smells mankind has to offer. He was cast aside and raised like gutter trash, and has never liked it – something about it always felt 'off'. He has no taste for the people he was raised by and around. Instead he seeks only one thing: Beauty.
Alishar is a shallow man at face value. While all that glitters may not be gold, he'd argue that gold does in fact glitter nonetheless. Things which shine and bring a sense of harmony to the world, things which make an impression, things which bring joy and laughter. The world should be full of these things. The reason that filth exists is to make beauty all the more beautiful – a diamond in the rough sparkles more brightly than royal jewels in the vault.
Alishar is a defiant man who denies his place in the world. But rather than pull down those who stand at the top, he would much rather act as though he is there beside them. When bid to know his place, he'd proudly claim that his place is ever where he stands. Those who would defy him, in turn, are often simply considered oppressors, who enforce a role he had not deigned to take upon him.
Despite his uppity view of himself, and the shallow-seeming view he has of the world, the actual definition he holds of beauty is actually quite broad. A champion gladiator is beautiful for his or her strength, a librarian sage is beautiful for his or her wisdom. While looks and luxury are also well-integrated into his idea of beauty, there is also room for those who transcend the shallowest depths. And in his philosophy, there is no beauty like the beauty found amidst the dirt and muck.
Likes:+Beauty: In all its forms, beauty is the sublime ideal he holds. Be it inner beauty, outer beauty, or something deeper still.
+Animals: Growing up, people were rarely his friend, so he wound up learning to socialize with the beasts. They cared for him where man did not.
Dislikes:-People: As a whole, people are disgusting. They are a shallow lot who need little more than symbol and a battle cry to commit horrible acts, and in the same breath turn against one another for as little as the coin they're worth. Yet it is amongst these horrific masses that the beautiful are born, and so he can forgive the masses, on account of the few he finds worthy.
-Violence: War is the opposite of beauty – it is vile and horrific. A truly beautiful person eschews bloodshed where they can, yet ultimately it's necessary to reconcile ideals. A necessary ugliness, yet one he dislikes thoroughly.
Aspirations:+Become truly beautiful, inside and out. To achieve inner beauty he wishes to become wise and powerful, and to achieve outer beauty he seeks wealth and luxuries. Only once he has it all will he be satisfied.
+Get his father to acknowledge his noble blood. Then, either exact revenge for being cast to the slums, or perhaps reconcile if the mood strikes him right. Ultimately, he doesn't know much about his father, only that the people he was slumming with had strong opinions about noble blood.
+Find a place where Beauty is as a virtue, the ideal to aspire to, or failing that, create such a place with his own two hands. Such a place deserves to exist in such an ugly world, a brilliant jewel in the rough that is existence.
Phobias/fears:-Rats: A very common critter in the back alleys and slums around the world. They are symbols of pestilence and death for a reason – many times he saw rats, he learned to associate it with misfortune. Food stores being eaten through and caked in feces, friendly folks either starving to death or catching some new disease after getting nipped. There are many reasons to dislike rats, even down to the fact that they are ugly, but his experience with them now ekes into the territory of superstition. Carrying around a snake is also to ward against such trifling monstrosities and their curses.
Face-Claim: Twisted Wonderland - Jamil Viper
Hair Color: Black
Eye Color: Hazel
Height: 175 cm (5'8")
Weight: 76 kg (168 lb)
Appearance: A fair-skinned young man of average height with considerably long black hair. His hair is generally tied into a long pony tail, with the left half woven into numerous small scorpion braids with gold clips by the tail-end, which are still tied back with the rest. Hanging over his left brow from one braid that frames his face are three small gold medallions in a line, which are only the topmost of the myriad golden, bejeweled accessories which adorn him. In terms of attire, his fashion sense is peerless and it would take far too long to describe the wardrobe he's amassed, though suffice it to say he is fond of loose-hanging clothing and hoods. In particular, however, he is found wearing a particular scarf at all times, whether the weather is appropriate for it or not.
Rukh Alignment: Black
Special Features: N/A
History: Born the bastard child of a Heliohaptian Aristocrat and an unlucky courtesan, Alishar was set up from birth to either live a charmed life full of beauty, or a cursed existence full of woe. When he was born, his mother fell woefully ill, and in her last days, she pleaded desparately to have the baby taken in by the father. Being a callous and pragmatic man, the nobleman concluded that there would be no repercussions were he to simply call the woman delerious and deny the babe his birthright.
And so after proclaiming to all and sundry of his relationship to this particular nobleman, his mother died in the slums, leaving his care to some urchins barely able to make ends meet as it were. The family he grew up with loathed him – he was a waste of their resources, thrust upon them by some nobleman. Human decency was barely enough to coerce them to feed him every so often, just enough to survive and no more. They treated him gruffly and with disinterest, so even as he tried to learn and grow up he wound up understimulated and depressed, just like everyone else around him.
Even other children and their families knew about his supposed connection to an aristocrat – how he was just going to get scooped up into wealth and forget them all anyways. Perhaps they were right, but nobody scooped him up. Friends were few, all were simply seeking to use him as a stepping stone out of poverty. When it became clear that he could offer them nothing, they left, always. Indeed there was nobody who had a use for him, and there was nobody who he could really say he needed.
Once he was old enough to question his place in the world, that was the age he began cursing his fate. He grasped the pain of isolation and hated it – the ugliness around himself. He wanted to fight it, but he wasn't strong. As many times as he asked 'why', he was struck down, isolated, starved, beaten, afflicted by ills of body and mind both. The only light he had for the longest time were some critters he met in the slums. In many ways, they were his salvation, the foothold he needed to stay sane, if one were to accredit the barest minimum of stability as sanity.
Growing up was difficult, he was raised by wolves, so to speak. He wasn't given much opportunity to learn how the world worked, and instead simply did his best to get by one scraps. Survival was all that mattered, and while he understood that this was all That Man's fault, no amount of blame would fill his stomach.
Eventually he found a way out. It was... questionable work, to say the least. But it was a job nonetheless. He had a fairly unique talent that made him of use to a certain trader, his affinity for beasts made it far easier to capture and sell them. What was a bit of poaching for a boy who had nothing and was offered everything and more?
This was an opportunity to see the world, beyond the slums. Having spent his whole life surrounded by dirty people in dirty houses eating nasty food, nursing ugly thoughts and grudges and so forth, even a trip into the capital city proper was a unique treat. It was here that he learned of beauty — an experience that would shape who he'd become over the next few years. On this trip he'd witnessed somebody who was genuinely concerned for the beasts they'd captured. She threw herself in the way of their caravan on its way to the market, and protested their crimes against nature.
This moved him so much that Alishar found himself interposing his own body as his boss moved to strike her down with bared steel, stopping just short of cleaving his flesh. This action caused a rift between them immediately, and the young beast whisperer was relieved of his position. He wound up falling in with the beautiful woman who'd moved his heart, and discovered many beautiful things surrounding her life. In her efforts to stop or subvert the beast trade, he found somebody he felt was a true leader, and watched a movement begin to form over the course of a few years. She announced her resolve to take a Dungeon, and use the riches and power to destroy all poaching and preserve wildlife as it was meant to be – Wild.
Yet this movement was nipped at the bud. A familiar face grew weary of her protests, and came to assassinate her personally: Alishar's old boss. She was cut down right before him, amidst a passionate speech on what may have been a date, and he watched in horror at what had been done. After some hideous tripe about 'just business', the young man snapped. Yet he was quite weak, so when he scrambled to fight back, he was batted aside. This was a mistake on the old boss's part, because Alishar had trained the boss's pet snake to defend him from attacks, and so the old beast trader found himself being strangled by his own scarf. After Alishar disarmed him by sheer luck, the man was unable to pry the snake off himself and he died.
So there he was, next to a hideous corpse, and a beautiful corpse. He cried, but only for one. This charmed life he'd witnessed, no, he lived for such a short time, was taken from him. Yet in his plunge back to depravity, he had to wonder if fate had orchestrated this. Would fate give a girl so much and then pluck it away capriciously? Was it for a reason? He wondered what it could all mean, and unable to resolve it in his mind, or find purpose to the cruelty, he eventually dismissed it as yet more curses – Something to defy.
That wasn't all there was to defy, when he'd returned to the slums and learned a little hint of information that turned his whole situation inside-out. Apparently the Aristocrat that was his father business ties to that Beast Trader, ties so deep that he could order the man to kill. This jarring revelation brought new perspective to Alishar's life to this point. Had the Beast Trader taken him in by his father's order? Was his meeting with the beautiful woman orchestrated by his father's machinations? One things was absolutely certain: His time with her was cut short by his father's order.
While he couldn't savor the revenge he got on the assassin, he felt a seething hatred that burned his poor heart, which called for him to take revenge on the man at the top. The only thing he could think of to quell his fury was beauty – something to soothe his soul like the beautiful woman did. Surrounded as he were by ugliness at all sides, it became clear that he had no place in this society.
And yet what is a boy to do? Try as he might, there was truly no beauty to be found for him. A man as weak as he cannot exact justice. A man as poor as him cannot afford luxury. A man as cursed as him cannot pursue happiness. Yet Alishar seeks to transcend all these things. Power, Wealth, Fortune. All these things and more can be found within the Dungeon. He just needed a little bit of his own to jump start the process...
Role-Play Sample: "Hey Kid! What do you think you're doing?"
"Hm? What seems to be the matter, sir?"A guard in the bazaar, perhaps a bit drunk, had decided to approach a young man he didn't recognize.
"Ya can't wear snakes if yer not a nobleman! It's *hic* insulting to the pharaoh!"
The young man, was indeed wearing a snake, though he was not a nobleman. Heliohapt traditions be damned, Alishar cared about fashion foremost.
"Insulting? Good sir, I'll have you know that there is no accessory that could possibly look insulting when juxtaposed to my beauty. All that I wear is art. Is there a law against painting snakes, or making snake statues?""Eh?" the guard was unable to really process the statement that was made. "You some kinda street performer, then? If yer such a *hic* artist, maybe it's as ye can put on a show!"
Alishar would tilt his head in curiosity, thinking about it carefully. It wouldn't do to get arrested or start a fight here, so perhaps he could humor the guard for a moment...
"...Very well."He raised a hand up directly into the air, and snapped his fingers. Suddenly the snake he was wearing proved to be more than mere fabric and embroidery, as it began to stir and writhe. It coiled arould his arm, all the while seeming to inflate to the size of a full constrictor, and then slithered onto the ground before slithering up his leg, then around his waist like a belt, before flattening like an accessory once more.
"You see, this is my pet. As a living being I'm sure you understand that he's not a mere accessory. It's not against the law to raise a snake, is it? I'll have you know he's quite tame, as well," the 'street performer' would explain throughout the act.
"Wh-what the hell?" the guard began to freak out in public. Apparently he was caught so off guard he found it necessary to draw his blade. Alishar would put his hands up innocently, though his expression indicated diplomatic understanding.
"You should really calm down, sir. One of us could get hurt if you start swinging steel around in the marketplace..." 
Message [Page 1 of 1]
(70/70)
