Test.

4/1: Somehow I accidentally deleted Mortis' bio. ;n; Don't expect this to be done any time soon. Sorry for lots of updates v.v

Mortis Auctor
Updates

"Hello, little one."

Physical Health: 95%
Mental Health: 98%

Recent Happenings: Watched from the sidelines as Velocity's demons were vanquished. Does not completely understand what is going on, but feels the victory was deserved for such brave soldiers.

Facts

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:>
History
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Relations
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