Armin Ebonfang

Armin Kaouu Ebonfang
Information

Armin Kaouu Ebonfang can only be described with one word: trouble. It may not seem such at first glance - one may not ever experience trouble from him, but deep within the hybrid, it lies dormant; waiting for a suitable stimulus to initiate. Oh, the fox is sly... a jack of all trades if he put his mind to it; An ex-fighter hardened by relentless combat, degenerated from a celebrity of the arena to a shady knave. A man with an eye for curves, as made obvious by the constant plotting look in his eye. A mystery. A different personality in the flick of a wrist.

But one must ask: "Was he always this way? - A question not many will find out. It would be lucky to spot his lithe and unusually handsome self dwelling in a corner, in a tavern, no doubt. With an affinity for solitude, there has been few who have managed to befriend him enough to learn more–of course, it is usually something formed from an evening of chasing skirt. Would someone actually dare to risk it? Notorious, in locations far, far away with people just as distant who have knowledge of him. Under a shroud of ebony silk, those eyes are but the only entrance into the mind behind them.

The Beast

Armin, in his purest form, is an unnatural cross between vulpine and human; a hybrid. (He is in no way a kitsune.) Lissome as the foxes from the wild, an embodiment of bestial grace. A tall figure, just pushing six feet high by an inch, dismissing the characteristic swept-back ears which come to a keen point. Spanning his body is a coat of undisturbed downy coat of stygian black; vulpine head topped with inky falls as dark as pitch  Ehis pointed muzzle, tipped with a small ebony nose, holds ill-defined human traits… charming, if one takes it such a way. Full of mischief at one point or another, drab vermilion eyes with ellipse pupils gleam eerily at night, when directlyilluminated; lithe hands with five nimble fingers are as human as can be, save for the bristles of hair that sprout from them, as well as the partially-retractable dulled nails that sprout from each appendage  Ethey have been smoothed over the years, leaving no patch of rough found; slender legs that start at the thigh are humanoid until they reach the knee, showing gentle traces of canine anatomy as they slant backwards by degrees; the whole body balances on the paws of what resemble elongated human feet, toes tipped with nails with the same capabilities as fingers. An interesting part of the raven-haired hybrid is the tail which shoots out from the small of his back, hanging limply. Dead. Where normal tails wagged, this one did not… no one seems to mind.

If one bothered to spare a look what appeared to be the workings of a deranged magic-user, they would notice his dashing choice in clothing. Everyday, he can be seen wearing fine attire: dyed silk shirts with broderie anglais front frill and pearl buttons. From frock coats, to satin cloaks; leather shoes on his feet (which were custom-made to accommodate his abnormal feet), there was even a doublet ensemble stashed away somewhere! Where did he get the coin? Oh, all used to know, but would the citizens of Myrken Wood know? They were strangers; alas, they knew nothing.

It's storytime...

The story started twenty seven years ago as a tale shrouded in mystery. A half fox, half man who does not remember much about his upbringing, only that he was a child to slaves in a forest deep in a faraway land. He was raised with others in the same situation, born in to slavery and raised as slaves themselves. The memory is foggy, but Armin seems to remember being brought to a brutal Arena when he was just a toddler, his father being killed there and his mother dying of starvation after only a few weeks. Armin was then put with the other young slaves spending many hours, days, weeks and years in the Arena, dealing with the daily punishments handed out. Armin found himself, at the proper age, being used for entertainment in the arena, as they started to fight children against one another at a very young age. He forced himself to brutally win in order to get a meal for the day, being labeled with many different nicknames for his vicious tactics.

As Armin started to grow in to a man, his strengths grew with him, and he never lost his battles, which enabled him to stay alive during these harsh times. His routine became mundane as a slave, manual labor, only making one friend, which was a human named Zhaiz. He was never pitted against his human friend, and they only spoke when slave drivers were not watching them. Armin had spent long years in this life, until around the age of twenty five. The time came where he had to battle his friend Zhaiz in the arena. He knew it would come to this, and he had battled many a man stronger then him, but with wits, he could usually outsmart the larger warriors. The fight started between him and his friend Zhaiz, and eventually, he found himself overpowering him, lurching him to the ground as the crowd cheered for the kill. Without thought, Armin plunged his claws in to his friend, killing him on the spot. It was after that fight, the slavers allowed him his freedom, but what does a man, who has never known freedom, do with such a thing? He merely left on his own accord and started wandering in to the woods of his homeland, disappearing in to the unknown. Armin managed to procure himself a campsite in the woods, facing time alone and hunting using the skills he acquired in the arena until he found a pathway he had never seen before. At the end of the path was a small portal, that upon further inspection, completely devoured him, spitting him directly in to Auvrynon. When he managed to pull himself together, he found himself outside of one of the ‘Gates Eand down the road from the City.