Kratos is of a baroque body type and stands at sixteen hands, an average height for his breeding. He’s agile but strong bodied, sporting a muscled croup and powerful hindquarters, a muscular, arched neck bearing a finely sculpted head, his profile delicately convex.

Looking upon him, you might be reminded of a nebula or a pristine night sky. The majority of his hide is a regal hue of dark purple, his flanks heavily dusted with luminescent white that seems to glitter and shift beneath the light of the midnight moon. Mauve stripes wind and twist up his legs and liberally cover his shoulders, chest and neck, yet do not mar or take away from his exquisitely sculpted face. Along the bridge of his nose on either side are four dots of darker coloring, growing slightly larger the closer to his nose they are.

Atop his head sit a proud pair of spiraled, black ram horns, fine chains of silver wrapped around and dangling from them. His eyes are a piercing shade of electric blue, their depths endless and lacking any indication of pupils.

The man’s mane and tail are long and luxurious, persistently silken to the touch and free of tangles or knots. At quick glance the hair appears black, but a keen eye will catch the ombre nature between the black and violet strands that intertwine and meld into one another.

Profound |Impassive | Aloof | Perspicacious | Sharp-witted | Reticent | Resilient | Meticulous | Calculating | Passionate | Pessimistic

One would have great difficulty in grasping the wide spectrum of emotion that Kratos feels, when most see little more than a stoic man with reticent tendencies and a pessimistic outlook on life. On the surface, that’s precisely what he is – an astute, calculating individual with wits sharp enough to cut through cold steel. Through the endless depths of his cerulean gaze, the world around him is black and white with no room for areas of grey. He struggles to create lasting bonds, knowing that time will inevitably rip them brutally apart and when it comes time for his rebirth, they will not follow down the same path.

But for a lucky few, there are bursts of color, possessing a light so bright that the perpetual darkness which clings fervently to him can be chased away to reveal another, more lighthearted side. He is a passionate lover, fiercely loyal to his soulmate and unyielding in his drive to protect her. Around her, the air of aloofness is lifted. Death would do anything to see the one which fills him with so much life happy, and woe be unto those who dare try to sever such a bond.

Under scrutiny, one may take note that Kratos is a meticulous creature in everything he does. From his own personal appearance to the way he prepares lost souls for their final journey, just as Felum has tasked him with for so long – Kratos cuts no corners.

His name is etched in the foundational history of the universe – but no matter how many pages you scour, you’ll not find his name nor even mere mention of him.

Through centuries Kratos has tiptoed, silently carrying out the tasks Felum had burdened him with since the beginning of his days. If pressed, Kratos would not know how long ago it was; perhaps since the beginning of time itself, ever since the dawn of life. For him, a harbinger of death,

A lowly beggar, a valiant knight, an engineer of disease, a forthright scholar, a profound healer, a child too sick to live past his first birthday – there isn’t a life Kratos hasn’t lived, but with each new one gifted to him, the memories of the rest become progressively blurred. From each a lesson is learned, a small shard to make him just that much better or worse in each life thereafter. However, no matter the passage of time, there is always a feeling of absence somewhere in the back of his mind, as though a piece of his very soul has been ripped brutally away. With each rebirth that vexing feeling is there, lingering until one day, the void is filled.

She’s a delicate thing, a soft, whimsical creature whose smile is something more beautiful than the stars themselves, his everything. Bewitched, their stories intertwine and carry on life after precious life. They are the sun and moon fated to chase one another for all of eternity, the true embodiments of light and dark, of life and death. For so long their life was wondrous and perfect, until one day their respective patrons called them forth to battle.

An army of dead were risen by the hand of a vindictive necromancer with orders to storm Nethilor, shrouding the entirety of the land in a bleak, eternal darkness. Disgusted by the desecration of the dead, Felum and Naevys’lyrai called upon their champions to lead a regiment against the forsaken undead and protect those unable to do so themselves. Side by side Runaveig and Kratos lead the charge into Nethilor, where the fighting would commence for a total of four days before ultimately coming to an end. Kratos had been too slow to dodge the sharp blade of the necromancer, driving deep into his chest and narrowly missing his heart, but the blow would not end him immediately. Driven by the need to see Runaveig safe and their task complete, Kratos summoned the last of his strength to deliver one final, fatal blow to end it all.

Victorious shouts could be heard rising somewhere in the distance shortly after his knees buckled and his bloodied form slumped to the ground. With his head nestled against the pale form of his lover, Kratos was delivered back into the hands of Felum, with Runaveig to follow him shortly after the rise of dawn. In the aftermath their dragons would eventually part ways, searching the world for their companions reborn.

In his most recent life, Kratos was born in a quaint oceanside village called Etzion. In the days following his birth, the family of three soon became four when a pearlescent pygmy dragon was discovered curled up at his side, head nestled comfortably into the crook of his neck, whom would become known to him as Pryna. His parents were kindhearted souls with a knack for theater, often traveling the countryside to share their tales and talents with any and all who would listen. Although slow to come into it, Kratos eventually developed a passion for similar things, preferring to weave the tales borne of his own mind and sharing them along the way. From a young age he held an intense interest in magic, though try as he might to grasp his own, it seemed that he had not been blessed in such a way… or had he?

At the age of three Kratos separated from his parents, not on bad terms but for the simple thirst to explore and secure his own adventure. Nowhere was off-limits, and with time he eventually found himself surpassing the boundaries of a land called Novus, where he would begin his next journey.

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Pryna the Pygmy Dragon

Since his very first days on this plane of existence, Pryna has been by Kratos' side every step of the way. The pearlescent white dragon has always been Kratos' most treasured companion, offering him unyielding devotion throughout his countless lives. Pryna's duty is to him, and until their eternal dance comes to a final end, it always will be. Unlike her bonded's somewhat stoic personality, Pryna has a more vibrant presence and is more expressive with her feelings. While she often muses over the frailty of mortality, she holds a special place of sincerity for them within her heart. Otherwise, she's a proud creature who isn't afraid to show it, and Felum have mercy on the poor soul who messes up badly enough to get on the dragon's bad side.

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Outfit

A violet cloak of satin which drapes across his chest and usually hangs off to one side, long enough to drag on the ground. The front of it is adorned with black roses and varying lengths of fine silver chain.

Items

His right ear sports two plain, silver earrings while from his front right leg hangs two bracelets of similar design and fine craftsmanship. Wrapped around his spiraled horns and dangling from the base of his tail, meticulously polished and as free of tangles as possible are delicate silver chains which positively shine against his own dark hue.

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