Rahael Varlese

Physical Description

Once a proud and expectational example of what paladin training can do to a human after a lifetime, Rahael has truly fallen low in recent decades.
  At six feet tall, his strong muscles could once cleave a greater demon’s head in two; his swiftness allowed him to hold his own in close quarters with any foe. Now, he rarely stands to his full height, and he does not reach for any weapon even to defend himself. Though he will still keep up his well honed workout routine out of century-engrained habit, he will not move in his own defense when others aim to harm him, short of preventing his own death.
  After all, he deserves whatever fate befalls him, but to die would be too easy an escape.
  His hair, once vibrant orange akin to flame, is dark and greasy from lack of proper care, and his blue-amber eyes hold very little of the spark that once earned him the title ‘Fireheart’.
  One trait that is relatively unaltered is the odd coolness to his touch, as though his body is stubbornly holding onto any warmth and unwilling to share with others.

Apparel & Accessories

[Previously] Full metal plate, painted ivory with the symbol of War embellished on his crimson cloak. A wardglass longsword on his right hip, which a shield strapped to his arm.

[Currently] Very loose fitting clothing that is threadbare and dirty, only moderately functional to keep him safe from the intense burning sun and dry air.

Lost his Decade Bands when the summoned demoness Alvalyja bit off his arm.

 

Mental Characteristics

Mental Trauma

Rahael carries the regrets of three mortal lifespans on his shoulders, thanks to the longevity of paladins and the consequential horrors of war. However, there is nothing he regrets more than what fate befell his daughter.
  The fate he aided in condemning her to. Everything before that morning could be rationalized as the necessities of war against the demon hordes, and what happened in the years that followed were simply lesser in the face of the crime of condemning his child and then abandon her. Even if the abandonment had not been his intent, it mattered not.
  Nothing could be worse, and nothing could make amends.

Motivation

Rahael has yet to properly find a new motivation that could prompt him to forgive himself. He is trapped in his own self loathing until something gives him a reason to look past his crime enough to take the first right step he has made in over a decade…

Social

Contacts & Relations

Lena Varlese: His wife, and thought to have been the love of his life for over a decade before their daughter was born. Though his love is beyond question, it was debatable whether she felt fully the same, though her attraction to him physically was undeniable ever since he found her wandering lost in the midnight desert near the Vi’Rok mountains. If only his love had not been so powerful, if only he had refused some of Lena's demands... Her "love" was not worth the cost it claimed; but now is all he deserves.
  Zahra Varlese: His daughter, and the light of his life since the day Lena began to show signs of carrying. Though Zahra often got into trouble as a small child, he was endlessly proud of her and cared deeply for her happiness and future. Her fate, to be bound to a murderous monstrosity, is Rahael's greatest regret and the sin he cannot forgive himself for aiding.
  Jace Kalil: Once a good friend, she has refused to accept his continued existence for decades now, ever since he managed to return from an attack by a demon lord in an old Azlaryn ruin. She behaves as though, at best, he is a ghost; and at worst an imposter.
  Obryn Sandura: A friend until Rahael deserted, he hopes that Obryn has taken his last request for the elf to look after Zahra seriously, though there is no way of knowing.
  Hana Sandura: Once his squire in training to become a paladin, Rahael had a good relationship with the young giantess... even though sometimes she had to be reminded that her cockiness could become a weakness, and even a foe smaller then her could be dangerous.

Speech

Rahael, when he does speak, is often pessimistic and morbid, but with slivers of his old cocky wittiness shining through even still for those who he once called friend.