HORAK, alois m.

[Alois M. Horak]

ALOIS MARCEL HORAK
Son of CHERNABOG

BASICS

Full Name: Alois Marcel Horak
Nicknames: Al, Ally, Marc
Age: 20
Birthday: May 1st (Walpurgis Night, midnight)
Gender: Male
Sexuality: Pansexual

Group: Villain
Parents: Chernabog
Canon: Fantasia

APPEARANCE

Height: 6ft 2in
Weight: 160lbs
Build: Slender & defined
Hair Color: Black
Eye Color: Blue
Scars/Body Modifications: After discovering these amazing things called tattoos, Alois has managed to ink up his body. He has various pieces on his arms, chest, and neck, and there's even a tramp stamp he probably won't show you since it was a dare. Most of the tattoos are actually meant to cover up the bulk of the scars he has received growing up, though some of the scars can still be seen if you squint.

His tongue, nose, and lip are pierced, though he stopped wearing the lip and nose rings to classes after one too many teachers inconvenienced him over it.

Most Memorable Feature: If his height, tattoos, and eyeliner are not the first thing you notice, it will be his eyes. They are a piercing blue that stands out against his pale skin and dark hair.

Alois is quite the imposing man. He stands tall with his head held high as if he knows for a fact that he could kill you with one flick of his wrist. This might have been true had it not been for the Council forcing him to wear an enchanted bracelet that severely limits his power. That will not protect you, however. He still has his fists.

Short black hair is always styled in some way, often slicked back or combed over yet free enough that he can easily run his fingers through it. His glaring blue eyes are often outlined in black eyeliner, though you might be able to see the bags from lack of sleep hidden beneath if you look close enough. His face is angular and sharp, and his lips are almost always twisted into a frown or the occasional smirk. His skin is riddled with scars, though he has plenty of tattoos to cover most of them up.

When it comes to clothing, Alois is always one to bend the rules to his own preference. He disregards most dress code policies, and there has even been times when he will come to class shirtless just to be sent away so he would not have to bother with the lecture.

Face Claim: Andy Biersack

PERSONALITY

Alois has already made a name for himself at Silver Spring Academy as someone you do not want to associate yourself with unless your aim is to get a leg up in the villain student body. He has countless cases of misconduct at school, going from simple things like breaking dress code to nearly beating another student to death. So easily did he build a reputation of being bad, and there is no point in trying to change his ways now. His father is happy with his progress, the school council is afraid of his father (and, by extension, him), and that is how things should be in his mind.

Reputation aside, Alois presents himself as arrogant, constantly glaring down at everyone he meets. He remains disinterested in those around him, seeing everything and everyone else as insignificant in his destined immortality. There are only a small handful of people he shows some interest to, even going as far as to say he cares, but he would probably trade them for one corn chip if it really came down to it. After all, he has to be ready to hate anyone his father looks down upon lest he wants to be covered in gashes and bruises on the next Walpurgis Night.

He fits the image of a villain perfectly. He has little regard for authority of any kind, be it teachers or even the academy's council. The band on his wrist is just a constant reminder of how annoying the academy's overseers are, a thorn in his side that he would want nothing more than to burn. Alois has a nasty habit of skipping classes, especially if he does not like the teacher or any of his peers. He will look for any reason to skip, and he is not against tugging someone else along in some sort of misadventure just to use them as an excuse.

Despite all of this, Alois is not some idiot trying to get out of school. He is actually quite intelligent, and he studies on his own time when he manages to get away from the rest of the school. Assignments are turned in on time (okay, maybe a few minutes early just so he can duck out before he's caught), and rarely does he get a bad mark on his papers. He actually shows up for tests, surprisingly enough. His attendance is lacking while his work ethic is higher than most, and this typically makes some of his teachers have conflicting views on him.

Overall, Alois seems like a heartless man, a literal spawn of Satan, who just wants to get school over with so he can go terrorize the mortals in his little bubble. However, there is a small speck of what humanity he has left, swallowed by the dark abyss he was plunged into as a child. To that special someone who can knock down or climb over the walls he has built up one by one, they will find that Alois is a passionate man who would give those he truly cares for the world. He would even stand up to his father if it meant keeping them by his side. Fiercely protective, his shoot first, ask questions later attitude is actually attributed to his desire to protect those he holds dear. Yes, that even includes the few friends he has managed to hold over the years. Look at them wrong, and you will get the fist without a second of thought.

Alois also sports a few hidden talents that he has been mostly practicing in secret. Well, the only secret is being a cellist. He likes to escape somewhere far from everyone else with his cello when he wants to think. The not-so-secret is his skill on the guitar and his vocals. He likes to claim he only picked up music because his father loves to make demons and spirits of the damned dance, but it has become a critical form of expression for the young demon lord.

HISTORY

The first memory he can recall is the bright and happy smile of a woman. Long brown locks of hair fell over her shoulders and hung over him. Thin fingers tickled at his sides as amber eyes gazed down. He can recall the warm feeling of a mother's love and the gentle song she would lull him to sleep with.

Yet, he was not hers by birth.

A wail split through the silence of night, startling awake a young couple. They untangled themselves from their sheets and stumbled to their door, a fire iron clutched in the grasp of the man. Slowly and carefully, the man opened the door, peering outside as the wailing grew louder. His eyes had just barely turned down before his wife pushed past, crouching down to scoop up a small infant left at their doorstep without a blanket or even a box, bare naked in the cold night of winter. She cooed hush words to the baby as her husband stepped out to search for whoever had left the baby, but no one was in sight.

An orphan. To the young couple, this infant was the answer to their prayers, a gift from god. They had been trying for years to conceive a child to call their own to no avail, and they were eager to take in this abandoned infant to raise as their own. Little did they know, this child was no gift from god. He was a gift from the devil himself.

The infant was given the name Alois after the woman's grandfather who had passed when she was young. His middle name became Marcel, after the man's father who passed the year before. Alois Marcel Horak, a child they hoped would grow up to be an angel in his own right.

At first, it seemed like that was a dream to be realized. Alois was a quiet child when he was well. He rarely cried, always seemed to be observing his surroundings, and he picked up on social cues and concepts quickly. He was crawling and walking earlier than human babies, and his first words soon followed. His earliest years were filled with laughter and smiles.

And he was loved.

At the young age of only three and a half, his parents discovered what a monster their son truly was. In the dead of night, high on the bald mountain that could be seen on the horizon from their window, Chernabog awoke. As the massive black deity pulled the dead from their graves and summoned lesser demons from the very pits of hell to begin a dance to truly remember, young Alois tossed and turned in his bed. He cried out in pain, tangling the sheets in his legs as his hands clutched at his head. His parents rushed to his room, glancing warily out the window before crouching over his bed.

They were horrified to find that their dear son was nowhere to be found, his pale figure replaced by a grotesque creature with ashen skin, bat-like wings, pointed ears, and familiar bright blue eyes. The creature cried out as his mother screamed. His father could only stare. Frightened and confused, he retreated into himself, allowing pure instinct to take over. He took flight, his movements sloppy and inexperienced, and slipped out of his window. Into the dark of night he went, following the lingering trail of demons and spirits to the bald mountain.

Yellow eyes tracked his movements, and Chernabog beckoned the young Alois closer and closer as the dead danced below. Rather than a warm welcome, a large hand closed around him, squeezing until the young demon cried out in pain. "Those humans made you weak," the deity growled. With the sound of bells, the dance diminished, and the deity threw Alois to the ground before folding over his large wings to become the peak of the mountain once more.

The next morning, Alois woke up in his bedroom. The grotesque form was gone, yet his body was wrapped in bandages. He could barely move from the pain, but that was not the worst part. His mother shuffled in as he cried out, yet her smile was strained and her eyes empty.

There was no more love.

Time slowly passed him by. The happy, quiet child rapidly grew into one of absolute trouble. He acted out, wanting to gain some form of attention, no matter how negative, from his parents. He missed the way they would devote their time to him, but things had never been the same since that night on bald mountain. His father never looked him in the eye, and he could hear the hushed arguments at night over what they were going to do with Alois. His mother refused to cast him out to the streets; her maternal instincts would refuse to let her even consider it. His father had already denounced him as a son, treating him more as a nuisance and wanting nothing to do with him.

So, the youth found himself plunging into a dark abyss with no escape.

There was some solace in the dark of the night every few seasons on Walpurgis Night. Chernabog would rise on bald mountain and call for his minions. Alois, unaware of who he truly was, eagerly allowed himself to transform and fly up the mountain. Like before, he was roughly grabbed, squeezed, and tossed away at the sound of church bells. There were some breaks in routines, such as when he was allowed to dance with the older demons and spirits or when Chernabog would have him mimic certain movements to make the flames dance for him. Every time, however, Alois would find himself injured by the harsh treatment of Chernabog or the other spirits.

He was seven when he gathered the courage to ask Chernabog questions during the Witches' Sabbath. He asked all the questions he had accumulated while listening to his parents fight, yet none of them were answered except for an unasked question that flew Chernabog into a rage. The mere referral to the human woman and man as his parents caused Alois to be snatched out of the sky and brought up to glaring yellow eyes. "You are my son and mine alone!"

Just like clockwork, the bells began to chime, and Alois was thrown down the mountain.

When his injuries had healed, he questioned his mother on what Chernabog had told him. Fear seized her as he validated the one thing she hoped was nothing more than a meaningless worry. Without answering him, she ran to her husband. The man grabbed the fire iron and approached Alois. Drawing back the fire iron, he swung. A single hit was all it took for instinct to take over. His form changed without the call from Chernabog, and his eyes gleamed as fire danced around him.

His memories are a little fuzzy after that, but he can remember the uncomfortable heat of the fire that blazed through the house as he slipped out of his true form. His clothes were tattered, his arm was bleeding, but he was not crying. The warmth of the love he yearned for was forever gone; he could understand that much as he watched the roof collapse with a puff of dark black smoke.

A farmer's wife had been drawn by the smoke and found Alois still staring at the blackened rubble of the place he once called home. She scooped him up and brought him home, tending to his wounds and fussing over the scars of his past.The Horaks were painted as an abusive couple who got what they deserved in the fire that took their life. No one once pointed their finger at the lone survivor.

Alois was an empty shell of a boy until the next Witches' Sabbath. His father--his true father, as he had come to accept--eagerly scooped him out of the sky and presented him to the rest of the demons. Chernabog boasted about what Alois had done to the humans he had been left with, giving more insight to why he had been left on the doorstep of the Horak's home. His father had wanted their faith in their god to waver. What better way to do that than to have them come to hate the very child they thought was a gift from above?

That black abyss suffocated him.

There was no light to chase after or a thread to latch onto. There was just himself and the gleaming eyes of Chernabog taunting him. From then on, his father seemed more than willing to mould the young boy into a beast truly fit to one day take over for him. That did not stop his harsh treatment, void of care. The farmer's wife constantly asked where he was getting terrible cuts, gashes, and bruises from. He had already shut her out and refused to answer, merely shrugging or, if necessary, pulling a poor excuse out of the air.

It was the farmer who caught him transforming on Walpurgis Night. It was the farmer who paid the price as the ten-year-old demon grabbed hold of the man and yanked him out of the window. He was carried to bald mountain where Alois dropped the farmer into the waiting claws of demons and the spirits of murderers. Chernabog was thrilled, but the job was not done. The farmer's house and barn were lit up like a bonfire that could be seen long after the church bells forced Chernabog into the mountain once more.

Alois was surprised to find no overly maternal woman coming to see the billowing smoke this time. No one came, and he found himself alone.

He hated being alone.

At thirteen, Chernabog announced to him that he was enrolled in some fancy academy where he would be properly trained and educated. It was something the deity could not do himself since he slumbered in a mountain during most of the year, lest he wanted to be inconvenienced by Virgin Mary. Alois was not fond of this idea, but it would be something to do as he waited for his father to wake up once more.

He was a lone wolf during his first year. This was more due to the fact that he was unaccustomed to being around so many people that he needed time to adjust. In that time, one could say he was something close to an angel. He kept to himself, ignored everyone else, did his work, turned his work in on time, and kept out of trouble. He took up music for creative release, and it became increasingly obvious to his teacher that he was naturally gifted. It was a shame he had been born into a world that was unable to foster his natural talents sooner.

His second year proved to be difficult on everyone but him. More accustomed to his surroundings, his true colors began to shine bit by bit. No longer did he ignore what others did, so long as it was directed to him. He got into fights, began skipping classes if he did not like a teacher or someone in the class, and transformed more than once to nearly end a student's life.

The council forced an enchanted band onto his wrist that he could not take off (himself). It restricted his powers so he would be unable to transform except for on Walpurgis Night when he was allowed to leave. Such an arrangement was only made due to the fear over his father's power and rage. The band did not, however, completely remove his powers. He could still control fire (though he found out the hard way about the system already in place to put out fires within the academy), and his dark magic would still be conjured to a lesser extent.

Begrudgingly, he behaved for some time in hopes the enchantment would be taken off.

It never was.

As the years dragged on, Alois found himself forming a small 'friend' group. At first, he merely assumed they approached him due to his attitude or because of the chill that goes down the spines of those who know of and hear the name Chernabog. Their presence was annoying at first, yet he soon found himself enjoying their company. They were nothing more than a group of misfits who wanted nothing to do with the academy.

Alois was no longer alone.

He did not know how long this would last or what would happen when they were no longer allowed to walk on school grounds, but he intended on holding on until the very end.

SAMPLE

There was very little he understood about the classes provided at the academy. He could understand segregating them based on your role in a story, and he could understand segregating them by grade or experience. What he could not understand was the importance of most of them. Core classes--sure. Mathematics and literature were important, especially if you came from an underdeveloped land like his. However, he did not see the point to dedicating a class on disguising yourself and your intentions.

It was cowardly.

Blue eyes glared at the graying woman, wrinkled with age, waving her hands in the air as she spoke. A dark cloak over her shoulders poorly covered the more than obvious way her back sloped over. Long, chipped fingernails protruded from bony fingers, and the woman grabbed hold of the hem of her cloak before pulling the material around her. Alois pulled his eyes away as the other students leaned forward to watch the teacher's example transformation into a young, beautiful woman.

His attention drifted to the door as he lifted his arms, folding them behind his head and making no move to be subtle as he leaned further into his chair. He had taken the seat farthest in the back corner where he could lean back all he wanted without having another desk and a disgruntled student to deal with. It also meant he was furthest from the door, currently left ajar with light from the hall filtering in. A shadow passed over the door as someone walked by, and then another.

He was only biding his time at this point. There was some dumb quiz at the end of today's lecture, then he could leave early (without permission) and be done with the day. Now, if only this old hag would hurry up...

EXTRA

Your Alias: Strange
Tell us a little bit about yourself: hi. i code. and uh. things. also have a 8-5 job, so you won't see me on more than my phone during most of the day during the week.
How did you find us: Proboards Support

[Maxie]

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