Profile
Name: Livyatan
Species: Kipitin
Age at Death: 22
Length of Existence: 300+
Height: 5'10"
Build: Athletic
Skin:
Grey
Hair:
Cyan
----Traits----
Horns: (Common-2) Short Broken, Metal
Ears: (Common-3) Average length
Sclera: (Common) Black
Iris: (Common) Coral
Smoke: (Common) Black + Coral
----History----
In life his name had been Olavi Virtanin and he'd grown up poor and sturdy in a small city in Europe around the early 1800s. His family owned no land nor business, so he never got a proper school education, which meant he never did learn how to read, write or do math. Facts that employers of the time used to swindle him out of money and to run secret messages between the heads of the underground market. He got beaten and went unpaid almost as often as he would conduct his jobs unscathed, but far more times than he actually got paid for his errands. That didn't stop a young Olavi from trying to earn money for himself and his family. As he grew taller and more muscular, messages started to come with instructions to extract information or items from the target. These always paid when he succeeded, thus these became the types of dangerous jobs he vied for from his boss. By the time he was a teenager, he was a well known thug for hire. He got married to a prostitute that worked for one of his Boss' allies and she moved in with his family, though she still retained her job as a prostitute for specific clients that were friends of her boss. One morning, she never returned home and though her boss professed that she had run off with one of her clients, Olavi knew that she had done no such thing, as she never would have left behind the gold amulet her deceased mother had given her. He choose not to let this go and confronted the narrative he'd been fed.
As he questioned people, beat the truth out of people, and dug in deeper; his boss and hers decided to get rid of him. He and his parents were locked up in their home and the place was set fire to. Thugs waited outside of his home to ensure that he didn't escape, and taunted them as they cried out for help. They had been his companions on hungry nights. They had been the men he'd worked with since he was a child, yet they gleefully laughed and mocked his fate. Not just his fate, but that of his beloved parents that had never done anything but try to provide food for their son. Enraged and dying, there was nothing he could do but slam his weakening body against the boarded up doors and windows. His parents succumbed to the smoke, he heard his mother gasp his name before she passed and then he heard the voice of another. Another that was not struggling to breath or to live. A voice of power and promise. He accepted this voice and where once the fires had desiccated his clothing and body, it now fueled his rage. Fueled his desire for revenge against those men who had worked together to take everything from him. His anger expanded and he fanned the flames of the fire higher and further, pushing the embers throughout the city, landing them on dried out homes of those scoundrels that had wronged him. They ignited and the entire city burned that year.
He never found his wife. He had stopped caring about it after he'd set fire to her boss' house. The city was never reformed, but it's ruins were left like black fingers of death reaching up to the heavens for mercy. Even though the fires only raged for 3 months, it is reported that 300 years later, smoke still rises from the ruins. Those brave enough to enter the proclaimed empty ruins of the city always report seeing smoke and embers. Smelling the acrid stench of death and decay, getting lung poisoning even from only getting within a few feet of the smoke. The city became Livyatan's haunt and any human that enters never leaves whole. Especially any that set their eyes upon the golden flicker of a pendant that lies amid a bed of vibrant red poppies that Livyatan cultivates to remind himself of a past that sometimes tries to elude and fade from his mind.
