Post by Alexandros Skouriá on Jul 31, 2019 5:42:03 GMT -5
Alexandros Skouriá
"The story doesn't end here!"
 | Age 18. Gender Male. Faction Haven Academy. Tier Freshman. Face Claim Jude Mathis, Tales of Xillia 2. OOC Name Dan. |
Character Traits
Date of Birth: 3rd of February, 7 AV.
Species: Human.
Hometown: Mistral.
Romantic Orientation: Straight.
Hair Color/Style: Black, loosely maintained in a choppy mid-length shag.
Eye Color: Amber.
Aura Color: A deep red-orange which is comparable to a flame.
Height: 163 cm.
Weight: 59 kg.
Appearance: A short and well-built youth who carries himself through much of life with a grin.
In setting eyes on Alexandros, one would not see a warrior. The young man stands as tall as he can muster and moves with purpose, but a small frame does much to counteract any room-commanding authority the prospective slayer of monsters could hold. Shadow-black hair frames his pale face, falling messily on the sides and back almost to his shoulders, broken with light by the golden tone of his eyes.
When not in uniform, he's almost always seen in some combination of black undershirt, dark open button-up and white coat over whatever dirt-stained slacks and boots he has to wear. Affixed to the right side of his waist is a leather holster for his gun, Thrash, and on his left a simple carabiner clip fed through a belt-loop to hang his 'gauntlets' from during downtime. Alexandros opts for a loose and flowing day-to-day kit to reduce inhibitions of his movements, alongside a more general penchant for informality; a quick-acting environmental acclimation keeps him comfortable in almost any weather.
Personality: At a first impression Alexandros is quiet and simpleminded, lacking the larger-than-life personality of the model huntsman: no rousing speeches, no grand acts of courage, and no heroic bravado behind gleaming eyes. Instead, Alex drifts through life with an understated focus, and an almost ever-present smile. Mild-mannered and polite to a fault, and not the sort to hold a grudge, Alex understands the value of connections. Confident but not cocky, driven but not obsessive, and honest but not crude -- a warm and genuine person in simplest terms. The youth acts with positivity and good-faith in mind, and is perhaps a touch too forgiving of others. Even still, Alexandros' sense of compassion and justice is not the sort to be disregarded as foolish optimism. The right thing must be done and he knows he's capable of doing it.
Beneath it all is a looming sadness and insecurity. Searching for purpose in an unkind world is not a task the sensitive young man was built for, and an ill-informed delusion that hope may yet spring eternal from out the heartbreak of his youth has been the catalyst for much of his misplaced determination. Death and finality terrify Alexandros deeply; in the darkest recesses of his mind he knows that his father, and so many others like him, will never come home. Despite this -- or, maybe, because of it -- Alex's refusal to 'break' does seem to come from a place of honesty and duty, rather than his fear of failure. This darker side of his persona has a nasty habit of surfacing whenever the youth sets his mind on something under pressure, smile almost always vanishing come time to trade blows with an opponent.
Species: Human.
Hometown: Mistral.
Romantic Orientation: Straight.
Hair Color/Style: Black, loosely maintained in a choppy mid-length shag.
Eye Color: Amber.
Aura Color: A deep red-orange which is comparable to a flame.
Height: 163 cm.
Weight: 59 kg.
Appearance: A short and well-built youth who carries himself through much of life with a grin.
In setting eyes on Alexandros, one would not see a warrior. The young man stands as tall as he can muster and moves with purpose, but a small frame does much to counteract any room-commanding authority the prospective slayer of monsters could hold. Shadow-black hair frames his pale face, falling messily on the sides and back almost to his shoulders, broken with light by the golden tone of his eyes.
When not in uniform, he's almost always seen in some combination of black undershirt, dark open button-up and white coat over whatever dirt-stained slacks and boots he has to wear. Affixed to the right side of his waist is a leather holster for his gun, Thrash, and on his left a simple carabiner clip fed through a belt-loop to hang his 'gauntlets' from during downtime. Alexandros opts for a loose and flowing day-to-day kit to reduce inhibitions of his movements, alongside a more general penchant for informality; a quick-acting environmental acclimation keeps him comfortable in almost any weather.
Personality: At a first impression Alexandros is quiet and simpleminded, lacking the larger-than-life personality of the model huntsman: no rousing speeches, no grand acts of courage, and no heroic bravado behind gleaming eyes. Instead, Alex drifts through life with an understated focus, and an almost ever-present smile. Mild-mannered and polite to a fault, and not the sort to hold a grudge, Alex understands the value of connections. Confident but not cocky, driven but not obsessive, and honest but not crude -- a warm and genuine person in simplest terms. The youth acts with positivity and good-faith in mind, and is perhaps a touch too forgiving of others. Even still, Alexandros' sense of compassion and justice is not the sort to be disregarded as foolish optimism. The right thing must be done and he knows he's capable of doing it.
Beneath it all is a looming sadness and insecurity. Searching for purpose in an unkind world is not a task the sensitive young man was built for, and an ill-informed delusion that hope may yet spring eternal from out the heartbreak of his youth has been the catalyst for much of his misplaced determination. Death and finality terrify Alexandros deeply; in the darkest recesses of his mind he knows that his father, and so many others like him, will never come home. Despite this -- or, maybe, because of it -- Alex's refusal to 'break' does seem to come from a place of honesty and duty, rather than his fear of failure. This darker side of his persona has a nasty habit of surfacing whenever the youth sets his mind on something under pressure, smile almost always vanishing come time to trade blows with an opponent.
Combat & Inventory
Bloomery
Rank of Semblance: E.
Semblance Type: Physical Boost.
One Sentence Summary of Semblance: Bloomery is a physical boost Semblance that augments Alexandros' destructive potential by super-heating his Aura, especially around his limbs and by which he is unaffected.
Description of Semblance: Mechanically, Bloomery grants Alexandros the ability to generate heat which can be partially controlled, while also being immune to its primary effects.
By altering the flow and regulation of Aura surrounding his body, Alexandros can create a field of ever-climbing heat which concentrates around the extremities of his limbs (below the elbow and knee) while also radiating out from his core. This spiritual kindling has no ill effects on the boy beyond faintly warming his body temperature, due to an automatic reaction of the inner layers of Aura repelling a majority of the heat out and away. This protective barrier 'floats' a small distance away from his skin to prevent his clothing from bursting into smoke and flame from prolonged or repeated exposure. Alex has some degree of control over how much of his body will and will not generate heat, and exactly how much Aura will be pumped in to facilitate this. When not going for a balanced distribution, he usually directs as much as allowable to his right arm to empower his fiercest strikes.
Coupled with his tendency to fight fast and rough, Bloomery is the perfect asset. Opponents must not only deal with powerful physical strikes, but face further punishment from the scorching heat gathering behind every blow. Alex hits hard when fully fired up and is more than capable of setting thin cloth alight or fracturing stone with repeated, focused attacks. A great degree of stamina is required to withstand the onslaught while also fighting back the intense temperatures, and an inability to properly resist will reduce even the sturdiest to a feverish sweating wreck.
Bloomery is easy to call on and easy to dismiss. No gesturing or precise movements are used in its activation or cancellation.
Drawbacks of Semblance: The intensity of heat generated by Bloomery can range from mere warmth to a truly dangerous smoulder; though harmless to Alexandros himself, friend and foe alike can easily be burnt. For this reason, Alex is often forced to break off from a formation or coordinated attack when using Bloomery to its fullest potential as the likelihood of collateral damage builds. Similarly, though the soaring temperatures might not have any impact on him, the resultant effects certainly do. Alex can all too easily damage -- and in some cases, burn or melt through -- surfaces and materials not able to withstand the heat, and he is prone to accidentally discharging errant munitions in a slew of circumstances. His own handgun, Thrash, is no exception to this, as trying to quickly and accurately place a shot without igniting the primer of all bullets in its cylinder is effectively impossible; Alexandros must forsake range entirely when using Bloomery in any serious capacity.
Alexandros is not a pyromancer: that which his Semblance offers is heat, not a spark or flame. While manipulator-types can create and command fire with ease, he has no such power over or resistance to anything which is not being directly generated through his Aura by Bloomery. Smoke inhalation, burns and general fatigue are just as dangerous -- potentially fatal -- to Alex as anybody else. This is made all the more risky by his inadvertent ability to set light to objects around him when battling without a duty of care.
Bloomery eats up his reserves of Aura with relative ease, and is only ever 'sustainable' at temperatures low enough to hold insignificant combat value. When combined with the high level of physical exertion that comes from fighting close-up, Alexandros' well of power can run dry in a matter of minutes.
Thrash
Rank of Weapon(s): E.
Description of Weapons(s): An old, dinged-up revolver held together with little more than hope and good intentions. Thrash sports a massive heavy-duty cylinder in its otherwise crudely constructed body, capable of holding up to four high-caliber rounds at a time. A good workhorse for harassing a target at range, yet nothing special when compared to the more intricate and complex weapons wielded by others.
Non-Combat Abilities
Name of Non-Combat Ability: Upkeep.
Rank of Non-Combat Ability: F.
Description of Non-Combat Ability: Keeping Thrash in a good enough condition to still fire without simply shattering in his hands has given Alexandros an appreciable talent for maintaining and restoring firearms. Though he'd not dare touch a complicated multi-mode transforming gun, Alex is proud of his handiwork with regular small arms.
Name of Non-Combat Ability: Acclimation.
Rank of Non-Combat Ability: F.
Description of Non-Combat Ability: Due to his body temperature's frequent climbing and falling, Alexandros has developed the uncanny ability to quickly acclimate to harsh weather conditions with ease. One would be just as likely to see him in his usual button-up and open coat in the middle of summer as they would be in winter.
Name of Non-Combat Ability: Needlework.
Rank of Non-Combat Ability: F.
Description of Non-Combat Ability: Though it is little more than an infrequent hobby, Alexandros is quite fond of knitting and sewing for both meditative and practical purposes. The boy sews by hand on small projects such as patching tears or re-attaching buttons on his clothing, while his knitting is a drawn-out affair adhering to simple patterns such as scarves or plain beanies. His finest and most obvious work in the realm of sartorial artistry is the metal plating sewn to each glove he wears during combat.
Combat Abilities
Name of Combat Ability: Brawling (Martial Arts).
Rank of Combat Ability: E.
Description of Combat Ability: Alex's preferred fighting style. An explosive repetoire of heavy punches and kicks supplemented by a multitude of other strikes and grapples. Unrefined and telegraphed and obvious, but decidedly brutal in its simplicity; an entirely self-taught means to an end which works well with his Semblance. Growing up in the city and without the need or reason to train with a real weapon, he instead chose to push his body to the limit; after all, one's own being is a weapon always at the ready. An amalgam of various other styles that seems to draw most influence from orthodox boxing technique.
Name of Combat Ability: Tempering (Durability).
Rank of Combat Ability: F.
Description of Combat Ability: A life spent throwing punches has had the rather unsurprising benefit of toughening up Alexandros more than your typical prospective huntsman. Bloody knuckles and bruises are mere annoyances, rather than a reason to back down as they would have been years ago. For better or for worse, this heightened toughness gives Alex a reason to constantly push himself and strive to never settle for second-best in a fight. To keep up in a world armed to the teeth, Alexandros wears a set of vambrace-like metal plates sewn to the backs of light and breathable gloves as makeshift gauntlets which allow him to reduce oncoming damage when fighting with focus.
Name of Combat Ability: Showdown (Marksmanship).
Rank of Combat Ability: E.
Description of Combat Ability: Par for the course as one might expect for he who chose to call a large handgun his ace weapon. Alexandros demonstrates a keen sense of control and command over Thrash and its bizarre properties, in particular being able to resist the monstrous recoil of its high-caliber rounds. The soon-to-be hero considers himself something of a gunslinger, and has at least a modicum of the required skill and panache to substantiate the claim.
Name of Combat Ability: Molten (Agility).
Rank of Combat Ability: F.
Description of Combat Ability: Par for the course for a brawler, Alexandros is able to move in-and-out of ranges in a defensive way. When within striking distance, this then extends to a general ability to weave around blows or fully deflect them without coming into harm. Sidesteps and slips are his usual tools, often coupled with parries from his lightly-armoured gloves when suitable.
Name of Combat Ability: From Ash (Stamina).
Rank of Combat Ability: F.
Description of Combat Ability: Thanks to his regimen of running, swimming, and training at the gym with frequency and purpose, Alexandros has further and further developed a well of physical energy to draw upon in times of need. His ability to press on under stress is impressive and steadily growing, currently allowing for an uninterrupted 5km run or additional burst of exertion in battle.
Rank of Semblance: E.
Semblance Type: Physical Boost.
One Sentence Summary of Semblance: Bloomery is a physical boost Semblance that augments Alexandros' destructive potential by super-heating his Aura, especially around his limbs and by which he is unaffected.
Description of Semblance: Mechanically, Bloomery grants Alexandros the ability to generate heat which can be partially controlled, while also being immune to its primary effects.
By altering the flow and regulation of Aura surrounding his body, Alexandros can create a field of ever-climbing heat which concentrates around the extremities of his limbs (below the elbow and knee) while also radiating out from his core. This spiritual kindling has no ill effects on the boy beyond faintly warming his body temperature, due to an automatic reaction of the inner layers of Aura repelling a majority of the heat out and away. This protective barrier 'floats' a small distance away from his skin to prevent his clothing from bursting into smoke and flame from prolonged or repeated exposure. Alex has some degree of control over how much of his body will and will not generate heat, and exactly how much Aura will be pumped in to facilitate this. When not going for a balanced distribution, he usually directs as much as allowable to his right arm to empower his fiercest strikes.
Coupled with his tendency to fight fast and rough, Bloomery is the perfect asset. Opponents must not only deal with powerful physical strikes, but face further punishment from the scorching heat gathering behind every blow. Alex hits hard when fully fired up and is more than capable of setting thin cloth alight or fracturing stone with repeated, focused attacks. A great degree of stamina is required to withstand the onslaught while also fighting back the intense temperatures, and an inability to properly resist will reduce even the sturdiest to a feverish sweating wreck.
Bloomery is easy to call on and easy to dismiss. No gesturing or precise movements are used in its activation or cancellation.
Drawbacks of Semblance: The intensity of heat generated by Bloomery can range from mere warmth to a truly dangerous smoulder; though harmless to Alexandros himself, friend and foe alike can easily be burnt. For this reason, Alex is often forced to break off from a formation or coordinated attack when using Bloomery to its fullest potential as the likelihood of collateral damage builds. Similarly, though the soaring temperatures might not have any impact on him, the resultant effects certainly do. Alex can all too easily damage -- and in some cases, burn or melt through -- surfaces and materials not able to withstand the heat, and he is prone to accidentally discharging errant munitions in a slew of circumstances. His own handgun, Thrash, is no exception to this, as trying to quickly and accurately place a shot without igniting the primer of all bullets in its cylinder is effectively impossible; Alexandros must forsake range entirely when using Bloomery in any serious capacity.
Alexandros is not a pyromancer: that which his Semblance offers is heat, not a spark or flame. While manipulator-types can create and command fire with ease, he has no such power over or resistance to anything which is not being directly generated through his Aura by Bloomery. Smoke inhalation, burns and general fatigue are just as dangerous -- potentially fatal -- to Alex as anybody else. This is made all the more risky by his inadvertent ability to set light to objects around him when battling without a duty of care.
Bloomery eats up his reserves of Aura with relative ease, and is only ever 'sustainable' at temperatures low enough to hold insignificant combat value. When combined with the high level of physical exertion that comes from fighting close-up, Alexandros' well of power can run dry in a matter of minutes.
--------------------------------------------------------
Thrash
Rank of Weapon(s): E.
Description of Weapons(s): An old, dinged-up revolver held together with little more than hope and good intentions. Thrash sports a massive heavy-duty cylinder in its otherwise crudely constructed body, capable of holding up to four high-caliber rounds at a time. A good workhorse for harassing a target at range, yet nothing special when compared to the more intricate and complex weapons wielded by others.
--------------------------------------------------------
Non-Combat Abilities
Name of Non-Combat Ability: Upkeep.
Rank of Non-Combat Ability: F.
Description of Non-Combat Ability: Keeping Thrash in a good enough condition to still fire without simply shattering in his hands has given Alexandros an appreciable talent for maintaining and restoring firearms. Though he'd not dare touch a complicated multi-mode transforming gun, Alex is proud of his handiwork with regular small arms.
Name of Non-Combat Ability: Acclimation.
Rank of Non-Combat Ability: F.
Description of Non-Combat Ability: Due to his body temperature's frequent climbing and falling, Alexandros has developed the uncanny ability to quickly acclimate to harsh weather conditions with ease. One would be just as likely to see him in his usual button-up and open coat in the middle of summer as they would be in winter.
Name of Non-Combat Ability: Needlework.
Rank of Non-Combat Ability: F.
Description of Non-Combat Ability: Though it is little more than an infrequent hobby, Alexandros is quite fond of knitting and sewing for both meditative and practical purposes. The boy sews by hand on small projects such as patching tears or re-attaching buttons on his clothing, while his knitting is a drawn-out affair adhering to simple patterns such as scarves or plain beanies. His finest and most obvious work in the realm of sartorial artistry is the metal plating sewn to each glove he wears during combat.
--------------------------------------------------------
Combat Abilities
Name of Combat Ability: Brawling (Martial Arts).
Rank of Combat Ability: E.
Description of Combat Ability: Alex's preferred fighting style. An explosive repetoire of heavy punches and kicks supplemented by a multitude of other strikes and grapples. Unrefined and telegraphed and obvious, but decidedly brutal in its simplicity; an entirely self-taught means to an end which works well with his Semblance. Growing up in the city and without the need or reason to train with a real weapon, he instead chose to push his body to the limit; after all, one's own being is a weapon always at the ready. An amalgam of various other styles that seems to draw most influence from orthodox boxing technique.
Name of Combat Ability: Tempering (Durability).
Rank of Combat Ability: F.
Description of Combat Ability: A life spent throwing punches has had the rather unsurprising benefit of toughening up Alexandros more than your typical prospective huntsman. Bloody knuckles and bruises are mere annoyances, rather than a reason to back down as they would have been years ago. For better or for worse, this heightened toughness gives Alex a reason to constantly push himself and strive to never settle for second-best in a fight. To keep up in a world armed to the teeth, Alexandros wears a set of vambrace-like metal plates sewn to the backs of light and breathable gloves as makeshift gauntlets which allow him to reduce oncoming damage when fighting with focus.
Name of Combat Ability: Showdown (Marksmanship).
Rank of Combat Ability: E.
Description of Combat Ability: Par for the course as one might expect for he who chose to call a large handgun his ace weapon. Alexandros demonstrates a keen sense of control and command over Thrash and its bizarre properties, in particular being able to resist the monstrous recoil of its high-caliber rounds. The soon-to-be hero considers himself something of a gunslinger, and has at least a modicum of the required skill and panache to substantiate the claim.
Name of Combat Ability: Molten (Agility).
Rank of Combat Ability: F.
Description of Combat Ability: Par for the course for a brawler, Alexandros is able to move in-and-out of ranges in a defensive way. When within striking distance, this then extends to a general ability to weave around blows or fully deflect them without coming into harm. Sidesteps and slips are his usual tools, often coupled with parries from his lightly-armoured gloves when suitable.
Name of Combat Ability: From Ash (Stamina).
Rank of Combat Ability: F.
Description of Combat Ability: Thanks to his regimen of running, swimming, and training at the gym with frequency and purpose, Alexandros has further and further developed a well of physical energy to draw upon in times of need. His ability to press on under stress is impressive and steadily growing, currently allowing for an uninterrupted 5km run or additional burst of exertion in battle.
Biography
History
The son, and only child, to two survivors of the Great War who found a home in the city of Mistral.
Alexandros had an unremarkable upbringing for much of his life, one without the hardships of those below near the ground or the pleasures of those who called the clouds their home. His mother worked as a silversmith in the Wind District, and his father -- a veteran -- as part of a security detail for a shipping company.
For as long as he can remember, Alexandros absolutely idolized his father. He was a man of overflowing patience and wisdom, with enough stories to fill the shelves of a library, an earnest but colourless sort with a tempered ego from his service and sacrifice for Mistral; Leo had lost an eye and much of one arm to the chaos, yet long-since given up on holding ill-will toward those that had disfigured him, for the former soldier was not himself without guilt. Active duty had humbled the Skouriá patriarch in a way nothing else could, debilitating injuries and all. Refusing to let old battle scars defeat him required the acquisition of a sturdy prosthesis to replace that which was lost, followed by a swift transition to a new line of work: protection for a large-scale delivery and transport firm. Work was not without its difficulties, as the father would often spend days away from home when en route to a score of destinations, with one particular trip in the late Autumn chosen by fate to be his last.
It was an attack. Grimm, everybody assumed; the convoy was a target far too large and lumbering and obvious, and in too great a number to peacefully pass by the misery-seeking scourge. They were way outside the capital, on a new untested path, and criminally understaffed for the journey. Investigators and journalists were fast to find the site where it had happened, and their word even faster to find its way back home. No bodies, they had all coldly said, but body parts -- and amongst the gore and despair lay part of a prosthetic arm.
Officially they were all deemed as being missing. Truthfully, they were dead.
On that day, the world changed. It wasn't small, and safe, and full of love in abundance. The world was suddenly a sinister place, one with nothing left but questions and all of that darkness the Great War could have never driven away. The Skouriá family had been rocked by tragedy and would never be the same again. To think that such a monument of a man would disappear without a trace was a thought neither Alexandros nor his mother, Zenobia, could make sense of. It wasn't real -- how could it be? Alexandros spent days, then weeks, just taking it all in, and nights without restful sleep for fear of what may wait in the theatre of his mind. There were two distinct possibilities, Alex determined, and both made his skin crawl: either his father would not be coming from that day on, or he /couldn't/. The thoughts were wasting him away from the inside out, making all the weight of the world come crashing down on a child of only fourteen years.
With nowhere else to run to, the boy found himself in the forests beyond the lower levels of Mistral. The evening air was cool and the sky dimly lit with the swirling pastel tones of a coming sunset, birdsong cascading down from scarlet trees on high. There was a beauty to be found when away from all the grit and grime of the city, and Alexandros made certain to find it through his tears. To think that the world outside his own could have ever been so beautifully calming amidst the tumult inside his heart was in itself reassuring, yet laced with a slight sadness; for this great land of Remnant was not without its own share of heartbreak, and the boy understood it better now more than ever before.
Time had lost meaning to him in the untamed wild -- probably out here for two hours, at least, he figured. The setting sun was long below the distant mountains and the last scraps of daylight sinking away with it, nightfall coming to embrace the world in its cold embrace. A wind had started to blow throughout the forest which brought the dying autumnal leaves down in a rain of red, coming and going in bursts as Alexandros thought long and hard. It was time to go home. Agony still thumping in his mind, the boy shuffled home with sullen eyes and gloom coursing through him as effortlessly as the blood in his veins. The air grew thin and arctic, with each breath rattling on the inside of his chest while his hands trembled. A strong gust rushed over the crimson canopy set against forthcoming blue, and a shower of leaves rushed down on the boy with it. A shaking hand was raised up as a shield, reflexively, and it happened: an intense glow hummed along the length of his arm, and from it radiated heat strong enough to set the time-stained foliage smoking and withering away. The sight of it confronted him, the scene coming to a standstill in his mind. Was this his Aura? His Semblance?
Aimlessly he had wandered, taking in all that the world could offer him, and only in the wind with retreating anger and sorrow did he see life for what it truly was: fickle and fleeting, and wonderful, and blindly, unassumingly cruel.
This, he understood, was life.
It was something worth fighting for. Hell, it may have even been something worth dying for.
Turning to ash, the fallen leaves drifted to the ground and splintered into nothing. All the suffering and screaming on the inside had ebbed away, if only for a moment, and in its place Alex felt a flicker of reason. What good was it to let the sadness win? He wasn't the only one -- not the first, and not the last -- to have lost something irreplaceable. This world had thrown misery at the two remaining Skouriás, and one of them knew damn well he wasn't going to let anybody else feel what he had. Alex could fight, and thus he /would/ fight; not for glory or for pride, but for the hope that even just one other family wouldn't have to lose a loved one to the monsters that haunted the countrysides. For it was with hand outstretched, wreathed in scorching heat, that the young boy became a young man, and only in the wind with a rising fervour did he see himself for what he may yet become; Alexandros Skouriá the huntsman, a champion for the innocent who could not stand and fight for themselves.
With hope in his heart, Alexandros spent the next three years taking any and every opportunity to strengthen his body and mind, and further develop the connection to his Semblance. Under tutelage from many in Mistral did the aspiring hero toil, seeking and breaking limits he did not ever think possible. A fighter stood where a frail child once had, rich in experience with immutable willpower driving him forward. Only one thing remained for him: Haven. The academy's acceptance of his technique and decisions would be the ultimate proof of potential, and the final challenge in the way of the young man's unwavering purpose in this life; for indeed, the old saying was true, the only thing necessary for the triumph of evil would be that good men should do nothing, and Alexandros -- like his father -- would live life a truly great man.
Family
Father: Leo Skouriá - Missing, presumed dead.
Mother: Zenobia Skouriá - Alive.
Extra
Alexandros' surname comes from the Greek "σκουριά", meaning "rust". This is reflected in an affinty for heavy earthern tones as complementary colours to various whites, greys, and blacks. This then extends into a general theme of metal for the character in two senses; a "bloomery" is a type of forge, and "thrash" is a subgenre to metal.
The son, and only child, to two survivors of the Great War who found a home in the city of Mistral.
Alexandros had an unremarkable upbringing for much of his life, one without the hardships of those below near the ground or the pleasures of those who called the clouds their home. His mother worked as a silversmith in the Wind District, and his father -- a veteran -- as part of a security detail for a shipping company.
For as long as he can remember, Alexandros absolutely idolized his father. He was a man of overflowing patience and wisdom, with enough stories to fill the shelves of a library, an earnest but colourless sort with a tempered ego from his service and sacrifice for Mistral; Leo had lost an eye and much of one arm to the chaos, yet long-since given up on holding ill-will toward those that had disfigured him, for the former soldier was not himself without guilt. Active duty had humbled the Skouriá patriarch in a way nothing else could, debilitating injuries and all. Refusing to let old battle scars defeat him required the acquisition of a sturdy prosthesis to replace that which was lost, followed by a swift transition to a new line of work: protection for a large-scale delivery and transport firm. Work was not without its difficulties, as the father would often spend days away from home when en route to a score of destinations, with one particular trip in the late Autumn chosen by fate to be his last.
It was an attack. Grimm, everybody assumed; the convoy was a target far too large and lumbering and obvious, and in too great a number to peacefully pass by the misery-seeking scourge. They were way outside the capital, on a new untested path, and criminally understaffed for the journey. Investigators and journalists were fast to find the site where it had happened, and their word even faster to find its way back home. No bodies, they had all coldly said, but body parts -- and amongst the gore and despair lay part of a prosthetic arm.
Officially they were all deemed as being missing. Truthfully, they were dead.
On that day, the world changed. It wasn't small, and safe, and full of love in abundance. The world was suddenly a sinister place, one with nothing left but questions and all of that darkness the Great War could have never driven away. The Skouriá family had been rocked by tragedy and would never be the same again. To think that such a monument of a man would disappear without a trace was a thought neither Alexandros nor his mother, Zenobia, could make sense of. It wasn't real -- how could it be? Alexandros spent days, then weeks, just taking it all in, and nights without restful sleep for fear of what may wait in the theatre of his mind. There were two distinct possibilities, Alex determined, and both made his skin crawl: either his father would not be coming from that day on, or he /couldn't/. The thoughts were wasting him away from the inside out, making all the weight of the world come crashing down on a child of only fourteen years.
With nowhere else to run to, the boy found himself in the forests beyond the lower levels of Mistral. The evening air was cool and the sky dimly lit with the swirling pastel tones of a coming sunset, birdsong cascading down from scarlet trees on high. There was a beauty to be found when away from all the grit and grime of the city, and Alexandros made certain to find it through his tears. To think that the world outside his own could have ever been so beautifully calming amidst the tumult inside his heart was in itself reassuring, yet laced with a slight sadness; for this great land of Remnant was not without its own share of heartbreak, and the boy understood it better now more than ever before.
Time had lost meaning to him in the untamed wild -- probably out here for two hours, at least, he figured. The setting sun was long below the distant mountains and the last scraps of daylight sinking away with it, nightfall coming to embrace the world in its cold embrace. A wind had started to blow throughout the forest which brought the dying autumnal leaves down in a rain of red, coming and going in bursts as Alexandros thought long and hard. It was time to go home. Agony still thumping in his mind, the boy shuffled home with sullen eyes and gloom coursing through him as effortlessly as the blood in his veins. The air grew thin and arctic, with each breath rattling on the inside of his chest while his hands trembled. A strong gust rushed over the crimson canopy set against forthcoming blue, and a shower of leaves rushed down on the boy with it. A shaking hand was raised up as a shield, reflexively, and it happened: an intense glow hummed along the length of his arm, and from it radiated heat strong enough to set the time-stained foliage smoking and withering away. The sight of it confronted him, the scene coming to a standstill in his mind. Was this his Aura? His Semblance?
Aimlessly he had wandered, taking in all that the world could offer him, and only in the wind with retreating anger and sorrow did he see life for what it truly was: fickle and fleeting, and wonderful, and blindly, unassumingly cruel.
This, he understood, was life.
It was something worth fighting for. Hell, it may have even been something worth dying for.
Turning to ash, the fallen leaves drifted to the ground and splintered into nothing. All the suffering and screaming on the inside had ebbed away, if only for a moment, and in its place Alex felt a flicker of reason. What good was it to let the sadness win? He wasn't the only one -- not the first, and not the last -- to have lost something irreplaceable. This world had thrown misery at the two remaining Skouriás, and one of them knew damn well he wasn't going to let anybody else feel what he had. Alex could fight, and thus he /would/ fight; not for glory or for pride, but for the hope that even just one other family wouldn't have to lose a loved one to the monsters that haunted the countrysides. For it was with hand outstretched, wreathed in scorching heat, that the young boy became a young man, and only in the wind with a rising fervour did he see himself for what he may yet become; Alexandros Skouriá the huntsman, a champion for the innocent who could not stand and fight for themselves.
With hope in his heart, Alexandros spent the next three years taking any and every opportunity to strengthen his body and mind, and further develop the connection to his Semblance. Under tutelage from many in Mistral did the aspiring hero toil, seeking and breaking limits he did not ever think possible. A fighter stood where a frail child once had, rich in experience with immutable willpower driving him forward. Only one thing remained for him: Haven. The academy's acceptance of his technique and decisions would be the ultimate proof of potential, and the final challenge in the way of the young man's unwavering purpose in this life; for indeed, the old saying was true, the only thing necessary for the triumph of evil would be that good men should do nothing, and Alexandros -- like his father -- would live life a truly great man.
Family
Father: Leo Skouriá - Missing, presumed dead.
Mother: Zenobia Skouriá - Alive.
Extra
Alexandros' surname comes from the Greek "σκουριά", meaning "rust". This is reflected in an affinty for heavy earthern tones as complementary colours to various whites, greys, and blacks. This then extends into a general theme of metal for the character in two senses; a "bloomery" is a type of forge, and "thrash" is a subgenre to metal.
