About EnoshPhysical Appearance:
Standing at 6'2", weighting faintly 85lbs, Enosh looks hardly like a human. His ebony skin kept tight, highly defining his bones. His dark eyes and sunken face are masked behind long strands of ash-blonde hair, reaching down to the end of his gaunt shoulder-blades. His skin is covered almost in its entirety tattooed with silhouettes of spiders. Stats:
Status: Juju Oracle 1 (HP __/10, AC 11/11/10, CMD 7, Fort +1, Ref +1, Will +2; Init +1, Perception +0) Stats
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Backstory:
It never crossed his mind to be worried of the chains to his ankles and wrists, nor the fate that awaited him when the shielded carriage he was in would reach its final destination- Branderscar Prison. There were more urgent, bewildering thoughts occupying his mind; such as whatever is left of the home he left behind, and all the bodies that will soon be gone to waste by the wear and tear of time. They should have at least spared him some time to embalm them before they rot, they owed this much to their own people, which are now decaying in the streets with who were, until a few hours ago, his fellow villagers and sawmill employees. His mind was stuck in a loop, trying to make sense of his captors’ priorities; who in their right mind would consider the living as superior to the undead? One is but a temporary, fragile state, while the other is so very, very much more… The scrawny prisoner sighed; his expanding ribcage was visibly outlined by his dark tunic, making the soldier that sat in front of him shift uncomfortably in his spot. The reaction made him smile, ever so slightly and unnoticed by those who didn’t know him too well, which frankly included anyone but his father. If only he knew where he was, maybe, just maybe, he could answer those mind-dotting questions he had. His father arrived about thirty years ago from far south beyond the sea; he immigrated for a chance at rebuilding his life, he used to tell his son without going into further details. For long he has wandered Talingard by horse and carriage as a travelling merchant, until that one fateful summer day in the city of Daveryn, where he first laid eyes on the one who will become his wife, Aelynor. It wasn’t often that his father expressed any form of joy; nevertheless, he could smile just by the thought of her. The next summer they settled down in the village of Blissden west on the road between Daveryn and Branderscar, faintly hidden by the forest surrounding it. They bought the old sawmill by the river at the edge of town with what little money they had, a smart investment, for in a few short months it would become the most successful business in the village (also the main source of work for the villagers). “Enosh” is what his father called him, not once has he ever referred to him by a lovable nickname, nor by his full name, as did other fathers around the village when they wanted to get their child’s full attention. He was an obedient and studious child, following his father and mentor with uttermost pride, admiration and trust. Aelynor, his half-elven mother, was a tad bit more difficult for him to relate to. She was different from him and his father-A half-elf while they’re but humans, with a plump physique, blue-eyes and a soul as gentle as her porcelain fair-skin. If not for the straight blonde strands he inherited from her genetics, Enosh could have been convinced they had no relations at all. Often was he laughed at for his skeletal figure and ebony complexion, but only when a careless brat would criticize him for his luxurious hair would Enosh leash out at them with whatever sharp word (or object) he could find. He didn’t need to understand her to love her, is what his father taught him, thus so he believed himself, too. That is, until she died. His father was not an ordinary sawmill owner, unless you ask Enosh directly, who never met any other sawmill owner in his life thus have nothing to compare his father to. His father was a Necromancer, a practitioner of the Juju mystiques, to be precise. His workers were sickly-looking, but never sick. They worked stronger and harder than all other men in the village, without breaks or pleas for compensation. He had a firm system, his father. The turned-workers had their family members turned as well, so the workers could return home each day without raising suspicions. To make sure the fellow villagers won’t suspect him either, he had the workers move to housings on-site, further from the village center and closer to the sawmill. By the time Enosh reached fifteen years of age, a quarter of Blissden’s population was made of the undead. His father never had to let people go, not workers nor loved ones. His father’s mother and older sister still lived in their household; they immigrated with him to Talingard back from before Enosh was even born. Their eyes and mouths were sewn shut, father said it was for their own dignity, noting it was due to a horrible occurrence back in their motherland but never expanding on it, so the boy never asked. There were also two formerly-slain grey wolves that his father raised by his request, only after he swore not to take them for walks around the village. As soon as Enosh was old enough, about four or five years of age, his father taught him how to command the undead. Be it for fun, chores or simple precaution. It doesn’t matter. This skill helped Enosh tremendously, for he finally was able to communicate directly with the beings in his life. He had control over the every action of the beings around him without ever being disobeyed or questioned, a habit that would make his life among the living all the more difficult. It wasn’t lively, living among the dead. It inflicted dark energies on the living members of the household, Aelynor in particular. Enosh was born into this surrounding and adapted, growing to be a living skeleton himself, but his mother never did. Slow and steady, she was consumed. Her body losing weight, rosiness escaping her cheeks, Enosh’s image of her blurred with each passing day. At the beginning she fought the darkness off by taking long walks to the village, but a couple decade after the operating of the sawmill the village folks began to ask questions, the sort of questions that robbed her of the luxury of being their friend. Mother's body failed her soon after Enosh turned 18. The loss of her livelihood gave grief to the older necromancer to the point he couldn’t bear it any longer. Her undead state wasn't enough, she no longer was the woman he fell in love with, but only a doll in her image. Three years later, without notice, his father disappeared; leaving Enosh in charge of the house and family business. Enosh lacked the wisdom his father had in keeping the living and undead separated, causing chaos in the village when he decided to use a handful of workers to help him carry chopped wood back to the market. Equipped with an old wand of reanimation he found in his father’s study, Enosh slaughtered-then-rose any village folk who dares accuse him of being monstrous. With limited powers over the amount of undead he can control per day, Enosh collapses under the stress of operating a whole village on his own. His meekness frustrated him into locking himself up in his father’s study, trying to grasp a better knowledge of juju magic. Two weeks later, bands of soldiers from Ghastenhall and Daveryn came to Blissden following tales of the survivors who escaped. By the skin of their teeth they fought through the undead horde and apprehended Enosh. Enosh’s only regret is being too weak to control the village on his own. He aches for the orderly life the undead allow him, one where every command is followed unquestionably, by employees who never complain or take any rests. The livings bewilder him, with their breathing and droppings and thoughts of their own. He remembers his mother’s quiet suffering, and how calm she became once she returned. Being human himself, he knows the pain of lonesomeness, stress, fear- all the side-effects that can easily be cast aside by not being alive.
Core belief:
Enosh believes in undead superiority, as they are most elegant and easiest for him to relate to. He is intolerant to the thought of others having thoughts of their own, or worse, acting on thought of their own.
Redeeming feature: Enosh is acute to the suffering of being alive, making him more compassionate to those who ache of diseases and broken hearts. He takes no joy in torturing and does his best to keep his deaths clean and quick.
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