Mortis Auctor
The Centurion
The Architect
The Author
Ancient 2000+ years
Scent of cedar and strong wine
Nearly blind
This will contain a series of short writings that portray his character as myself and others see it. Feel free to contribute. :)
Always a work in progress.
---
He is stoic and strong: a quiet warmth that lurks in plain sight. The Author is a wise and ancient presence. His eyes are bright and warm and gentle; they betray the true nature of his soul. Violence has long since become a thing of the past for Mortis. Fawns are to be protected. Does are to be cherished. Stags are to be respected. A bow will trouble his aching joints, but he will try to return the gesture if it pleases you. Let him catch your scent. He cannot see, to memorize your appearance. He moves deliberately, with purpose. Slow and steady wins the race, after all. If you sit next to him, a conversation is expected. Do not worry, he is happy to do all the talking. His mind is cluttered and full- he often loses a thought among the mess- but be patient. It will resurface eventually, and it will be worth the wait.
-Myself
Things can not be rushed. Nothing.
If it can be, it’s not worth doing.
So he takes his time. Lift leg, bend knee; momentary discomfort. Pause.
Steps might be a means to an end, but they make up the journey. One wrong step, as the saying goes.
To fall would carry such finality.
Lower leg, hoof drags through grass, plants in soft yielding dirt. Pause.
He lets young air fill his lungs, holds it. Frees it. He continues on.
- Terebetha
He is a creature of heightened emotion. Painfully aware of his mortality or, more specifically, the lack of it. He craves companionship, the closeness of a kindred spirit. The pain of loss is a heavy burden to bear, and bear it he does. Countless friends have been loved and lost. Dust in the wind as they say.
And yet he never learns...
Sometimes he craves their company, however fleeting it may be.
He will not approach them. He tells himself it is not worth it. Occasionally the Author is weak. If he were to relent to himself and forge ahead into the path of a stranger, to deny him would be a mercy. The pain of rejection is nothing compared to the misery of loneliness that descends after good company has departed.
The happy ones are the worst. Their laughter rings a tone that causes his chest to ache with bittersweet longing. How he wishes to join in their merriment and stay until his book closes. The Author passes them by.
Still, there are those who choose to step forward. Those rare and wonderful individuals that wish to draw him into their games or a quiet conversation. Despite his age, despite his seemingly cold exterior, they proceed and crack his shell. On these occasions loneliness ebbs, if only for a little while. He is ever so grateful to these few.
But of course it is inevitable that he will be left alone, eventually. This stag knows better than to delude himself into thinking otherwise, and he cherishes time spent with others. After all it is better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all, is it not?
Sometimes he feels it is not.
-Myself
Appearance
Idol Pelt
Dull reddish brown. Coarse and thick. Longer around his neck and chest. Specked with gray: more so around his ears and chin. Fades to a darker, muddier red down his legs.
Kirin Antlers
Black as coal. Not large or formidable, but very strong. Curl tightly around his ears so that sharp points protrude forward, even with his cheeks. Ridged and roughly textured.
Skull Mask
Old and yellowed elk skull. Important, but not particularly liked. A tool. Not used for protection, but intimidation. Hides his aged face. Upholds the illusion of his strength.
Beluga Mask
His helmet. Very similar to the picture, but bearing a red plume. Treasured. From his days as a soldier. Recently recovered from a museum in his last trip to the human world. Had it modified to fit over his antlers before bringing it to the forest.
Size and Build
On this chart, an 11 in height, 29 in build. Muscular, keeps himself in shape, but arthritic. Slow moving and cautious in his movements. Capable of shows of strength good enough to deter some attackers, but has very little stamina.
Short ratty tail.
Human face, complete with short, graying beard.
Art
By Giratina:>
By Sleepything:>
By Pretzil:>
By Myself:>
"I did not give her a name. Rather, helped her discover her own." He smiles politely. "It is a pleasure to meet you as well, my lady."
____
Thanksss xD
She smiled at the polite welcome. "Trees is enough. Thank you, my lord. I hope it is okay to ask what name you are called by?" She bowed her head in a greeting gesture.
"Of course. My name is Mortis." He returns the gesture and grins. Then, sparing a mischievous glance in Miyako's direction, he asks, "I hope my daughter has not spoken ill of me, since it is obvious I have been mentioned. I may have to turn tail if she has been regaling you with embarrassing tales."
Now that made the doe grin slightly. "Not in the slightest. If any it was the opposite when she simply showed me that you are a man of great taste when it comes to names by telling me where she had the name from and what it means." A most interesting deer, that stag in front of her. She looked him over for a moment, noticing that beside his obvious age then and there he looked still strong and determined, making the little patches of gray rather complimenting his figure rather than the other way round.
It was nice seeing him again. ♥
And just out of curiosity, if Mortis still there with Miyako? All I can see is a white light that is following her when she moves somewhere and no Mortis. Strange..
Boom. ♥
♥
:I hai
hai
Hello c:
Intresting,I love how he
~tracking.
"Hello there, good sir. So
(Also.......traaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaack XDD)
What nature divides, the spirit unites.
*rolls*
"I did not give her a name.
____
Thanksss xD
Edit: Jala ninja x3 Helloo~
She smiled at the polite
What nature divides, the spirit unites.
"Of course. My name is
Now that made the doe grin
What nature divides, the spirit unites.
Tracking. c:
Would this be Mortis whom
If so, I have the oddest image of them acting like old men sitting on a bench, smoking pipes and talking about the good old days.
And throwing bread to invisible ducks.
^ Lol!
It was nice seeing him again.
And just out of curiosity, if Mortis still there with Miyako? All I can see is a white light that is following her when she moves somewhere and no Mortis. Strange..
It's always nice to see
And yes he is >~> Strange indeed.