Lord Blacksnow

Modifications artist(s):

All work by me

Provenance:

Parts direct from respective companies.

Best Points:

I think Nicolas is among Impldoll’s most handsome and unique faces, and the Dollshe 24m is such a wonderful piece of art all to itself. His gestures feel natural and lifelike.

Worst Points:

The head had a giant light bulb skull I had to dremel down to size. The 24m body has massive feet so in order for him to wear shoes I had to make him some ugly epoxy replacement parts. Both bonding processes, I guess.

A flesheating monster hellbent on vengeance in hope it will banish his chronic nightmares. When he unexpectedly finds the love of his life, he realizes she may be the true key to healing his mind ...

-cough- if she would stop trying to kill him, that is.

He is the protagonist of a book I have been working on for many years. I suffered some terrible nightmares in my early and mid teens to the point of being terrified to even close my eyes. I suppose his creation was one of the ways I found to cope--by inventing something even scarier.

This doll moonlights as "Mr. Perle" in my modern photostories.

Eyes:

Resin handmade

Wig:

Suri alpaca handmade

Fashion style(s):

As befits a man of his status and a cold climate, he dresses well in rare furs and the finest wool money can buy, but keeps to dignified colours without excessive embellishments.

I am slowly but surely developing a wardrobe for him, including weaving tiny chainmaille. Progress in my journal.

Character age:

Old enough to have fought in a war that ended seven decades ago...

Offsite roleplay:

This doll's character is not available for offsite roleplay.

ESTJ, Dragon, Capricorn

Warning for violence, cannibalism, drugs...

'Orimhutoh-Daumfir-Aig' came from somewhere in the barren volcanic islands far beyond the edge of the Erusian maps. His earliest memories are of roaming treacherous shifting crags thick with toxic steam and lashed by storms… all while evading his sire, a beast hellbent on ripping him apart and devouring him as he had the rest of their kind.

When Orimutoh finally killed his father, he knew starvation would soon follow, for he was the last living thing on that desolate rock. Out of desperation he braved the turbulent sea and washed up on a distant shore filled with things he had never seen before-- plants, insects and all manner of delicious creatures, including curious two-legged beings somewhat like him who were foolish enough to try to speak to him rather than flee on sight. Though he did not know what he was, exactly, he knew he seemed purpose-built to deceive and devour the soft pink ones, and he indulged himself as a fearsome predator of the shadows doing just that.

That was until he reached manhood and became ensnared by the scent of their fertile young women. In pursuit of them he was compelled to leave his life of murderous vagrancy and learn their language and culture. He was soon to discover another delight of the civilized world-- the paradox that was war.

Men killed one another not to directly evade hunger or enact a personal grudge, but on behalf of a leader whose goals were not always clearly understood. In grand scale with ridiculous pageantry, they assembled and collided against every instinct of self-preservation. He could not resist testing his prowess by entering this fascinating game himself, and over the years amassed a following of mercenaries eager to capitalize on his incredible physical power and stamina.

Orimutoh was then introduced to a substance that enhanced his enjoyment of a bloody battle even further. It provided a euphoric delirium while dropping any and all semblance of control until he was a berserk beast slaughtering anything that moved. He became addicted to the heaving ecstasy of it and his reign of glory became a reign of terror.

It was not to last. Mere drops of rain by their sheer numbers could assemble a wave to drown even him. Denounced as possessed by a demon of war, Orimutoh was caught in a vulnerable state of withdrawal one fateful night and captured by monks intent on sending him to hell. Though they were foolish enough to think he had died merely because his heart had ceased beating and never finished their work, the bloody ritual did irreversible damage. Since that time he has suffered unshakable nightmares each and every time he lies down to sleep.

Orimutoh has now reentered the political sphere as ‘Lord Blacksnow’ with the underhanded acquisition of a hold of his own. He intends to begin the game anew; older, wiser, and willing to do anything to enact the vengeance that may finally rid him of the spiritual wound destroying his mind. Once the world knows the legendary monster is still at large, however, there will be no turning back...