Arkeleus Herohyme

 

 

Name: Arkeleus Herohyme ~ The Inverted Immortal

Age: 340 before being inverted, 17 after his inversion, capable of changing his age.

Gender: Male

Homeworld: Euphemeron

Species: Euphemerian

 

 

Armaments: Arkeleus believes it necessary to be armed to an adequate degree. From times of his magics being inverted by the counter-chaos requiem steel, which stabbed into his body, he assimilated and overcame it's terrible magics. From his body, he can freely pull the same steel and all it's terrible aura as an extension of his being. This aside, he levies on his magical abilities to dish out a series of devastating demolition. Yet, newly acquired to his arsenal, the Staff of Ultazon Raxmus, powered on a separate extension linked with restorative properties. Grand levels of magic haven't been achieved since the age of the luminous one.

 

 

Appearance: With age, Arkeleus was a strong and poised man.  Standing a towering six feet, two inches off the ground.  Possessing with him a grave disposition as it reflected his experiences and exploits.  Amassed in armor forged by blacksmiths of Euphemeron, it aided him when entering battle many times.  Conventional, steel chain-mail reinforced by his own magics, the epic hero was well protected from other magics from thine foes and physical blades condemned to strike him down.  With valor, his prideful appearance, melanin tinted glory be his tint.  Hair, affluent spiked mildly, and dyed a fairly rich shade of blue.  Gauntlets, guarding his palms, they possessed with them reinforced palms for magical trickery leaning towards off hand spells.  Armor over the person, yet not between the gap of his abdomen where he'd expose his manly valor.  His eyes, a stunning hazel, they appear like fierce flickering gem's of a relinquished king, where his spoils were for the taking.  Truly, in his vanity, he stands prompt for battle, this ring-giver of Euphemeron.

 

 

Personality: His vanity is Arkeleus' greatest noticeable strength, such valor in his rise from the epic king of Eumpheron, to a god with the raw force of magic. Though vaguely stated, for times of his childhood, Arkeleus was a humble boy. Even through his pride he thought it valuable to maintain some form of kindness among mortals. Though as he began to grow, fighting many battles, his heart was slowly beginning to turn and spoof a preemptive chill over his heart. The workings of which would send him to not rely on his men, this king of Eumpheron. Hardened by time, the governance of his kingdom, he was a rigid wall for many a year. Till the day of his great change, the counter-chaos requiem's steel piercing his heart to set him into an inverted being.

 

 

After his life went through a full one eighty, overcoming the inversion of not only his abilities, age, and life, it opened his mind which had been closing slowly as his times as king. His personality becoming dynamic and seems to always be changing as he adapts to suit the greater situation he's presented with.

 

 

Abilities: Arkeleus as a whole has skills in the themes of various strings of magic that branch off from his form. Since going through a complete inversion, he is capable of using magic in reverse and even straightforward. This meaning, his skills each having an opposite by comparison his capabilities spin them into the polar opposite. Able to change his own age by reverse magics. A variety of different magics, the arcane being his first and often preferred skill.

 

 

As apart of his personality evolving at a constant, his empathy has risen. Converting this into a form of magic he draws to read his enemy's feelings, often sought to perceive truth's his eyes aren't able to detect. Simple wave, and their feelings can be ruptured with pain staking sorrow and remorse. This link, once established allow him to feel the desire, and with that, his magics allow him power to shape it and it becomes reality.

 

 

 

Bio:

 

~Prologue~

 

 

 

In many times tolled from way back when

the omniverse was pulling into space and time.

The unstable bonds themselves tearing the others asunder

Many a great planet came spawn into existence.

Several raw forces branching from magic were burst through

Siphoing rapid power and magics alike. There were the systems

for which to balance this power.  So born, were the magical planes

albeit physical, naught hollow and others an endless paradox of the two.

From theses forces were man great gods born alike, being pulled by

the very fabric of this force it seemed all to grave for one to mark it.

The very first gods, the manifest of the ever expanding omniverse's

wonder.  From the depths of space, time, dimensions, and various

continuum that ensue.  These gods existed within different realms,

planets, all on different planes.  One was to wager their hollow forms could

disperse such power.  A wave of the finger would be all it was necessary to

erase a mortal from the face of the gods' feet.  This horrendous amount of

power within the omniverse would not only be dangerous, but the very thing

that could tear it, levied under it's own superfluous scale.  So came the meetings,

kinships, and obliteration amongst the gods.  It wasn't until their periodic calm,

to be settled on the material plane.  Prime, thus dubbed Earth.  The central and lone

epicenter of the magical planes, here they doth branch out from. So it rested that

should this planet be wiped from where it stands, may the omniverse plead it's mercy

upon the gods and mortals that possess properties of magic, yet have naught the pure

force pushing them into their being to sustain thy form.  Even the gods were set to

certain limitations, though the times passed like long days, their own desires and whims

to be carried out even so.

 

 

 

~The Prophecy~

 

Lying in the depths of the omniverse, there in lay two epic forces of nature.

The dominant and radiance that dine in the blood of the fallen. This god.

It appeared as though he were to triumph the lesser gods as he'd gone on

To such lengths, yet to be surpassed, His wrath, one to perservere til' the

days of men and gods are to cease. Yet tales speak of another, a second entity

of equated caliber treading the inverse omniverse justice.  one, not residing

the ridiculed disdain of a god's valor, but more so pertaining to the untapped

magis of magic in all it's grandiose glory.  A manifest of inverse magics.  Such

boast and claims to title belong to that of a mad man.  Indeed, here in lay the

unbridled strengths of one who hasn't been completely measured, eyes to be

trialed through his quest to become a recognized god.  There was a name, the

lost name in the unwritten book of the Omniverse's time.  The time draws nigh,

Arising from the depths of secrecy and bitter deception, a black god of the

inverse magics.

 

 

 

~Breath of Life~

 

 

 

The screams of a Jubilant child sprouting form through

the stomach of thine fortuitous woman of creation.  A child,

be him male, born not of woman, his fate differeing from those

to come.  A special child, with gifts to follow him in his growth into

an aspiring figure, it wouldn't be long before his times in the light

were to shine.  The parental figures, Gorverak and Teldra bickering

to name thine son of radiance he'd shine, fond of Arkeleus, ending

name Herohyme.  What great justice wrung for this newborn.  He'd

become something measurable as the omniverse was still young.  Thy

newborn sreamed in glee, as his cry echoed over his sanctuary and home,

Euphemron.

 

 

 

The bells releasing their vibrant rings for this miracle that would model

a new age.  Young infant, rising above the others with special display

of the magical arts.  The child, his name Arkeleus, unique in his special

skills of the arcane arts, that his primary, raw magic he doth purge from

his palm to further his growth.  A mere toddler, his age hasn't been marked,

yet Euphemron had already taken keen eyes to him.  His people, in times

of merriment and glee, this brought him happiness.  Such a setting would help

him to grow and mature into an upright fellow in his environment.

 

 

 ~Growth~

 

 

Akeleus' expressed his expanding knowledge of the magical expression.

His body trained like that of a thinking boy of seventeen in mortal years.

By appearance, the melanin shaded mage's growth was one his people

prided.  Though, as for times for which tainted their peace called for

affirmative action.  A mere boy, Arkeleus raised his fist in defiance to thine

enemies demands.  Euphemron's first invasion, by their hated counterparts,

the Crylinthons.  Oh great king, so forth thine ring-giver to the hated side,

Reitgarth of the proud yet vile cretans to tread Euphemron soils.  His blade

pointed into the face of the very child, he showed no sympathy, for this, a

mere child interfering with his ambition guided by his own malice.  Rein his palm,

they men invade, mortals for the taking.  Enraged, releasing one's rising magical

fury, Arkeleus rebelled releasing a grand expansive burst of rippling magic unto

the Crylinthon's as they endow in agony and despair.  Back they flew, driven

into the very dirt of Euphemron.  This didn't please Reitgarth in the slightest,

mind toned to rage, and rising fury.  Unsheathing said vorpal blade, a murder

would make himself, to slaughter a child without haste.  Drained, his breath

fading to a pant, under the hovering demon above, Arkeleus fleeting backward,

lest his head be cleaved clean off by the great battle-head's blade.

 

 

 

"Oh such claims to power make thine enemies a flutter.  They praise you, a child,

such words disgust and fill my blood with hatred for your life.  Thus your growth

shall wither.  Soak in with your shattered entity and flooded corpse of crimson liquor!"

So did thin vengeful assailant profess?  Gripping thy vorpal blade so profusely, what

little difference in all it actually made.  Rising from the shambles of the soil, Arkeleus

unarmed professed his boast as assurance of such tales to fulfill. Flooding thine palms

with the arcane arts, his mancery, both swift and spontaneous keeping the focus built

thine chant uttered.  "Hembralac, Nyfuse, Tikradim, Galfuga!" Arkeleus speaking in

Euphemian tongues, as his twisting magics weaved to bind thine evil break-charlatan

in his grasp.  Such release, to spell over the king, setting his body a slither.

Accelerating his age to rapid levels, he withered to bones and dust at the hands of a

child, the glory that he obtained with the mere mention of his magics.

 

In time, Arkeleus became king of the great Euphemerians.  The people praised in joy

for their ring-giver as he'd risen to such high status after experiencing so much.  His

trials as a king were to start at the very beginning of his rein.  With little trepidation

to distract him, his rule was governed swift and with little shreds of mercy.  His feet

moving down the halls of his palace he attained it all and kept things in order.  For

on the brink of war against the foul creatures from the far Terzion lands.  To arms,

Arkeleus and his men did tread onto the soils of thine enemy, vanity be their greatest

power, not far from the king's magic oversight.

 

 

 

So war-time spread.

 

 

 

Like a fire, the great king over many winters, long since past.  A mighty figure of seventy, his will still strong and his magic even stronger.  Aged well, such magics

were seen as bridging the phenomenal.  Triumph, seemed to follow his name along

with many a great battle.  Fist held high, he seemed to be a strong willed, and cold hearted individual.  The king loosing sight of his reasons for being their salvation, stiff

be the feelings of sentimentality.  A cold blooded murder, for so his time continued did

he tread into the rich glory pathed with blood and death.  His words left to wring around in the mind's of his people.  Just who be this man, or figure, or entity, and where be their true king?

 

 

~The Inversion~

 

 

 

The length for the life of a mortal, what seemed to be a short one.

Grand in length, thine king had aged a great deal, his will however not

one to dim from such a realizaton.  Opening up his mind, he scoffed

at this and maintained the youth in his mind.  Ripened age of three

hundred and forty.  A new blood of evil, invading thine kingdom yet still

as his will kept his consciousness alive, he'd continue to fight in all of his

glory.  To battle, he blazed against those treading from the inverted plane

where chaos opposite of order trailed with them.  Their grand elite warrior

and divine leader, Voytulmar, the chaos king!  His mockery of the Euphemerians

king in every possible manner wet his face with delight, smiling upon his days

long since gone when he was truly fierce.

 

 

 

"Be it a century earlier, and maybe you'd stand a better chance against my unbridled

you.  Old timer, retire thy divine blade and submit to my sheer power branching from thine

being.  Saving you the hassle of withering your tired bones." Voytulmar did indeed profess.

The king, cold, bitter, and as stubborn as it may would cry ignorance to his words of taunt.

Raising his mortal blade, he drew it to his enemy and persevered not quite turning down this

foe of unbridled skill.  His will, strong, determined, and fresher blood than he.  As the battle

continued, it seemed as though, his limits were finally set in.  Chaotic magics, weaponry, and

swordsmenship much swifter than his own.  It wasn't until that shining moment he'd been run straight through.

 

His body tainting with the counter-chaos steel from Voytulmar leaving it to flood his being.  His magics being tainted, he'd die in a matter of seconds of that he assured.  The king, to tremble back and stumbled on thine knee.  He could feel his body beginning to tremble all over, it would surely consume him.  Yet there was a sign of his resistance.  That unflinching will of his was a sharp as ever.  Still not willing to back down, gripping the blade with both hands, his magic overflowed from his being.  Forcefully pushing the steel into his very form.  He was absorbing the powers of the immortal sword, his entity and magics alike taking on the characterstics, himself inverting through the process.  Growing stronger with each passing second that went by. Thine divine ring-giver of Euphemeron, in his plight merged himself with that said power that was to destroy him.  From his heart chamber, did his heart stop beating, however the midpoint between life and death presented him with means of escape.  Resistance to being controlled and consuming his downfall to reform, reborn anew.

 

 

 

The Inverted immortal had stepped from the bowel's of the old king's soles and armor.  Hurled back through time perhaps it was supposed at first, yet his body inverted all over.  He was amazed to find himself in his youthful state, retaining even his prior magics in tact.  To his delight, and profuse glee, he'd gained the inverse magics locked within the counter-chaos blade wielded by Voytulmar.  Drawing his bane from his body, like dislocating a bone, he levied a heavy blow beheading thine youthful foe with a glimpse of his blood to slide down it's slender form.  A great triumph for the great king, no longer that in the eyes of his people, he'd achieved something beyond that of a mortal body.  Truely, he'd become a god.  As the prophecy fortold, there was a manifestation of inverse magics, realized within the now young Arkeleus, The Inverted Immortal.