Archdemon - Ivan (Russia)

[: D E M O N :]



:basic:

Name: Ivan Braginsky
Nation: Russia
Physical Age: 25
Appearance:

The first adjective many would use to describe Ivan would be “intimidating,” and there’s no doubting the truth of that assertion. At a full six feet tall, he looms over most people, and there’s something inherently off about his nearly ever-present smile. Perhaps it is the way it is just a bit too happy, or far too innocent, to feel genuine, but the most likely factor is the way his deep, violet eyes can express so much and so little at the same time. When in Hell, he dons the red attire of his vice, though he manages to fashion it into more of a heavy coat than the traditional robes. On Earth, his clothing is plainer and often quite worn, as he pays very little attention to his physical appearance. However, no matter where he is, never can Ivan be found without his scarf.

:special:

Class: Archdemon
Vices: Wrath
Former Virtues: Charity, Kindness

For Ivan, Hell is not a place of heat; it is a place of cold so intense, it burns. Though he clings to an old scarf he was given long ago as a talisman against it, he still feels the chill wherever he goes. The cold has sunken into the very core of his being, and it has corrupted his once-good heart. He still has some surprisingly innocent traits, but his mind is balanced on the knife’s edge that divides innocence and madness, and the slightest provocation can tip him over. His power of wrath is drawn from that madness, which can be nearly tangible around him, and can infect the unwary.

:advanced:

Personality:

Upon first meeting Ivan, one might question why he is a demon at all. Certainly he doesn’t seem very evil. Alright, so he might be a little creepy, and the smile is a bit unnerving, and maybe a few of the things he says aren’t exactly normal…but he’s generally a nice person, and he seems very eager to be friends! He can’t be all that sinister, can he?

For the most part, to the surprise of most angels (and quite a few demons, for that matter), none of it is a front. Ivan is nice most of the time, and he’s quite naïve for a demon, not in an innocent sense (nothing could be further from the truth), but in a gullible sense; he tends to believe what he’s told. And, in a strange way, he has an open heart. He considers almost everyone a friend, and he is hurt when they don’t think the same.

It is when he is hurt that no one can forget that Ivan is a demon, a demon of wrath. He doesn’t just get hurt: he gets angry, and those around him can feel the anger radiating off him, even if his smile never wavers. Sometimes, that foreboding aura is enough to get what he wants, but whenever it isn’t, he will not hesitate to hurt anyone, or even kill them. But despite his near-psychosis, Ivan genuinely doesn’t mean to be evil. He’s quite a paradox, in that sense.

History:

(which I managed to cut down to a reasonable length!)

Ivan is a prime example of the old adage, “The road to hell is paved with good intentions.”* He was once an angel of charity, the most revered of all virtues. His heart was full of compassion and grace, and he longed to help others; for the sake of one in need, he would give most anything. He drew great power from his virtue, power he used willingly for the Lord.

One day, Ivan was given the mission of spreading goodness on Earth. He was sent down to a land covered in ice and driving snow. Unfamiliar as he was with any sort of discomfort, he did not know how to protect himself from the cold, and he was soon as close to death as an immortal being could possibly be. Shivering violently and half mad with the agony of freezing, he cried out to God for help, and He sent a widowed woman to help him. She cared for him and nursed him back to health, providing a heavy coat and a scarf for him to wear, and he was amazed that a human with so little could give so much. He thanked her and promised his eternal gratitude, and though he traveled throughout the land on his mission for God, he would always return to help her. And whenever he despaired on his journey, she comforted him, and he loved her like the mother he’d never known he’d wanted.

Then the Golden Horde came, and his fall began.

The sin that started it all had been a split-second decision. The child had frozen in terror, the horseman had raised his weapon, and the next Ivan knew, there was blood covering his front, and the man was dead.

He pleaded with God to allow him to help, but the Lord was firm. Ivan had sinned, and he was thus stripped of his power. He had rushed as quickly as he could to the widow’s home, but he was too late; the Mongols had done their work. He could only watch helplessly as everything he loved on Earth burned.

Ivan prayed desperately to the Lord for help, but He had fallen silent. The pain and suffering of the survivors only deepened his grief. Worse, his punishment for murder continued, and he could still do nothing to help.

Why, God?! he cried. Why do you let so many of your children suffer?

It was then, at his lowest point, half mad with despair, that Lucifer came to tempt him.

Did I not tell you this would happen? the Serpent sighed. See how the rich are blind in their wealth and give nothing to the suffering masses. See how God does nothing to aid them.

I can help! Ivan insisted. I can do something!

You have no power, silly angel, Lucifer laughed. You can do nothing. Unless…

Despite himself, Ivan’s attention was caught. Unless what?! he asked desperately.

Renounce God. Join me. Your power will return, and you can make sure that the oppressors are brought to justice!

Lucifer’s words stirred something in his heart. The seed that had been planted so long ago had grown to bear its wicked fruit. He willingly turned his back on God and fell, taking up the mantle of Archdemon.

*Actually, it’s paved with frozen door-to-door salesmen, but hush, I’m making a point here.


RP Sample: (At least 150 Words)

Ivan blinked in the sudden brightness. Slowly, he began to take register of his surroundings. The sun shone magnificently, and the sky was the bright, clear blue of a beautiful summer day, with the big, fluffy clouds that were in every artist’s interpretation of Heaven. A warm breeze blew across the landscape, gently brushing his exposed skin.

But it wasn’t the sky or the weather that had his attention. It was the field itself. Sunflowers, he realized. As far as the eye could see, the field was covered in tall, yellow blooms. He picked one with a small, nostalgic smile, bringing back old memories of golden yellow robes tied with an emerald sash, spreading joy and goodness to all people, and fire everywhere, homes burning, a voice screaming, “Vanya, Vanya, help me!”, blood, bloodbloodBLOOD--

“NO!”

Ivan barely realized the shout was his as he reeled backwards, eyes wide, trying to remember that what he held was a flower, just a flower, not a weapon, not a blade that had just killed a man. He was standing in peaceful meadow, not in a ravaged square; no one was burning, and if they were, he was not going to save them. He had given up his golden attire and donned robes of red. It was not his job to save anyone anymore.

“Ooh, isn’t it pretty? Come on, hurry up and look!”

“Honey, we’re going to be late—”

“Just a few minutes, come on!”

Ivan smiled again, but the expression was far from the gentle one of before; now, it was edged with steel. To business then, he thought, as he made his way towards his unwary victims.

He kept the sunflower. He wasn’t sure why.

:ooc information:

Name: Erava
Age: 17 (soon to be 18)
Time Zone (GMT +/-): GMT-6