mozenrath
Sept 26, 2010 17:59:42 GMT -5
Post by mozenrath on Sept 26, 2010 17:59:42 GMT -5
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introduce yourself.[/ul][/font][/i]
charrie basics.[/ul][/font][/i]
age: Unknown. It was stated, however, that he was "barely older than [Aladdin]," and since Aladdin is about 18, one can assume Mozenrath is 19 or 20 - fairly young for a villain.
species: He started off as a human being. But experiments with dark magic have led him to become something considerably more tainted than that. He is still human... in the most rudimentary of senses. But he prefers the term necromancer, or sorcerer.
birthplace: Once again, unknown. Although he is the Lord of the Black Sands, he might not have been born there. For all anyone knows, he could have been kidnapped by the previous Lord - Destane - and forced to become the evil sorcerer’s servant.
movie: Not a movie, but a spin-off series: Aladdin the television show, which was first aired in 1994 to 1995, and was then rerun in the late '90s. It was placed on Toon Disney for a few years, but has since been off the air. You can watch episodes on YouTube however [:
title:
LORD of the Black Sand
LORD of the [i]Black Sand[/i]
why: Well... it's difficult to say. I've always loved Mozenrath as a villain, and I feel that only 9 episodes in the television series is not enough to truly depict the layered character I feel he is. He is an excellent villain, suffice to say; barely older than Aladdin, but having easily given the young street rat a run for his money. I enjoy Mozenrath more than I enjoy Jafar villain-wise - which is saying something. Plus, Aladdin has always been one of my favorite Disney movies, and that TV series was just entertaining and amusing. For more personal reasons, however, Mozenrath provides a sort of challenging character for me; I've never RPed a male canon character before, or a villain canon character (my canons in the past have included Sally from The Nightmare Before Christmas, Tinker Bell, Audrey from Atlantis: The Lost Empire, Naminé from Kingdom Hearts, and Relm Arrowny from Final Fantasy VI). He is the villain that speaks the loudest to me, however - and because not very much is actually known about him, I have a lot of creative license to work with. I also have an original character that acts quite a bit like him. But it just comes down to the fact that I just love Mozenrath, and I think he just needs a little more love himself. [:
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charrie appearance[/ul][/font][/i]
facial description/mood expressions: He has a bit of a square jaw, with thin cheekbones flattening down to a rounded chin. His nose is slightly on the larger side, with a rounded tip. Thick, black eyebrows are set over his eyes, which are round, and wider than they are tall. Most often those eyes are half-narrowed - in arrogance in some cases, in disgust and anger in others. Very dark circles surrounding his eyes bring out the sheer darkness of his pupils and irises. His lips are very full and also feminine, and just as pale as his white, white skin. Most often he’s seen with his lips curved up in a smirk, his half-lidded eyes eyeing the world, smug and condescending. Another expression of his is the cold and calculating look, his jaw settled in a kingly pout that’s very becoming on him. The other most common expression is that of anger and irritation, his lips curling in a snarl, his eyes turning to sharp-edged glares of contempt to get his point across.
clothing style: Mozenrath dresses in colors of blue, black, gold, brown, and gray. Most prominent is the dark blue of his attire, so stark against the brightness of the desert… though perfect for fitting in at his own home in the Land of the Black Sands. He dons a black cape with spiked black shoulder pads to increase dramatic effect whenever entering or leaving a room. A blue one-piece covers most of his lithe form, extending down to slightly puffy pants on his legs. His calves and feet are covered in black boots with curled toes. Attached to his cape is a black-and-gold tunic, extending down his chest and midsection to between his knees. A tight, thick brown belt holds it in place. Beneath these layers of clothing is obviously a very thin frame; he has a thin waist that the belt hugs tightly. But perhaps the most vital piece of clothing Mozenrath wears is the brown leather glove on his right hand, while his left hand is bare. He never - let me repeat, NEVER - likes that gauntlet to be off of his form, let alone out of his sight - which is a point I’ll get to later. The sheer bulk of his clothing ensures he never gets sunburned in the bright desert sun.. or any sun at all, so it appears, as Mozenrath is pale as chalk. Then again, he lives in the Land of the Black Sands, which is pitched in what seems to be eternal darkness, dark magic surrounding the whole place.
body build: Thin and utterly pale, Mozenrath has made it obvious with his squabbles with Aladdin that he does not have a body fight for hand-to-hand combat. Lithe, skinny, and pale, Mozenrath’s build slightly resembles the dead corpses he allies himself with - or rather, controls. He’s rather tall, as he’s taller than Aladdin by a few inches - though probably has nothing on Jafar. All in all, Mozenrath is a dark sort of handsome - if you like that, that is. (which I do. [: )
any unique traits (optional) : The most interesting thing about Mozenrath is his right hand, all the way up to the middle of his upper arm - the one I mentioned previously, that he always likes to be covered. The reason for this is that Mozenrath’s right hand is nothing but bone. No flesh, no skin, no veins, no muscles or tissue - just sheer dead white bone. In his conquest for power, Mozenrath gave up his right arm, and as a result, part of him is nothing but a skeleton. He has lost all feeling in that hand. Perhaps another interesting thing about Mozenrath’s appearance that is worth mentioning is the constant presence of his flying eel familiar, Xerxes. Dumb, a bully, and unable to string two words together, Xerxes is the perfect option for carrying out Mozenrath’s dirty work - which he often does with little complaint.
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original charrie analysis. (everything must be in your own words! please be thorough.)[/ul][/font][/i]
The topmost layer is the usual face he expresses to the public - narcissism. A general disgust of anyone below him (which is everyone in his eyes, but in particular, street rats), and an air of arrogance and self-confidence. Mozenrath is fully convinced he’s right, one hundred percent of the time, and everyone else is wrong, stupid, and ought to shut up before he makes them. He enjoys playing games with people, as it’s amusing to him to watch people fail when attempting to carry out schemes he’d designed. He is intrigued by people with good intentions, and it’s bewildering to him for people to want to risk their lives to help people, but not for gold or power (the latter of which is the most important thing in his life, but we’ll discuss that later). It’s quite obvious he doesn’t care for another soul - not even Xerxes, who would do anything and everything for his master.
Peel away the second layer - underneath the shallow charm he can use against his opponents and the condescending air - you’ll find intelligence. Oh yes, Mozenrath is smart. He is by no means found doing stupid things; no, he leaves that to Xerxes and his army of Mamluks. Instead, he is the brains of the operation; he thinks things through thoroughly (oh look, alliteration!) before putting them into action. Of course, there are always ways that people trump him - which angers him beyond reason. He flaunts his intelligence too often for his own good, thinking himself above the rest of the world. He knows he’s got the smarts, and he can prove it to you, too - which suits his personality of wanting to be in control of everything. No one controls, messes with, or irks Mozenrath, unless you want to fight his rage.
And that is our next layer in discovering the young dark sorcerer’s personality. Anger. Once you get on Mozenrath’s bad side, there’s no stopping him and his quest to get revenge on you. It is at this point he reveals himself to be quite bloodthirsty. He actually enjoys killing to an extent; it gives him a sense of control to manipulate the lives of others in such a final way. Though Mozenrath is constantly irritated, this anger is not often let out of its cage - though, when it is let out, it becomes quite childish. One of his constant quotes is, “It’s not fair!” A sore loser, Mozenrath will curl up inside of himself if he is ever defeated - just to bound back to his feet later to put his next vengeful plan into action.
Underneath the anger and childish part of him is a real, adult hatred. As we get closer and closer to his core, we find much more adult, mature things lurking beneath the what can seem immature parts of Mozenrath’s personality. And one of his driving forces is hatred. Such an awful, black emotion… no wonder he turned out the way he did. He hates Aladdin for getting him so many times; he hates Agrabah for housing Aladdin and his ridiculous group of comrades; he hates his late mentor, Destane, for locking him up, alone, in the Land of the Black Sands, with the stench of death filling his nose and mouth and the power of dark magic darkening his eyes every day, with no one but his crazed master for company; and, finally… he hates himself. Beneath the narcissism, the cold calculations, the childish rages, and the hatred for everything else around him is a true, sick hatred of himself. He loves the feeling of power; he hates the price he paid for it. He loves coming out on top; he hates the fact that he likes coming out on top. Paradoxical is probably the best word to describe such a predicament; but Mozenrath’s hatred of himself is buried so deep, so bound to his core that it is unlikely he himself even realizes it. He probably used to realize is, when he was younger and the bitterness was just starting to begin. But it has become lost underneath the one word that, in a nutshell, can describe who Mozenrath is now.
Power.
In the end, his life has always been about power. Coming out on top no longer did it for him; he wanted true, sheer, undeniable power, the thrill of the kill, the ache to control, to torture, to manipulate. If you’re feeling generous, you could blame his mentor Destane for instilling such a horrible thing inside of his apprentice… but Mozenrath brought it upon himself. He didn’t have to take Destane’s gauntlet and deliver the killing blow. But he did. At this point, you can no longer say that Mozenrath wants power. He obsesses over it, craves it, needs it, even, in order to function properly. He gave up his right arm just to have the kind of power that the gauntlet gives him - even though the gauntlet sucks at his lifespan every day, even though it hurts beyond all reason to put it on… he’d do it in a second if it meant he got to taste the bittersweet flavor that power brings him.
history: (It’s unknown where Mozenrath comes from, so I just made up his childhood as a sort of basis for his personality.)
Mozenrath can’t remember much of his childhood. It’s all blurred together. He reckons he was born a prince - he remembers the feeling of royalty, of being pampered, which may be why he hates street rats so much. He also remembers his city burning, screaming… he remembers his vow for revenge against whoever did that.
Destane found him in the wreckage of the city and quickly picked him up off the hot streets, sensing the magic that filtered through every fiber of Mozenrath’s being. He took Mozenrath in when the boy was very young, whisking him away to that horrid Land of the Black Sands. Now, Destane himself was a nasty piece of work. It was said that even Jafar stayed far away from him, because Destane wielded dark magic that no one dared test. Yet he readily was, and it slowly drove him to the brink of insanity, and then beyond.
So he raised Mozenrath in the dark Citadel, with no one but corpses for company. Mozenrath stayed because he was too young to run… and even then, the seeds of hatred starting burning up inside of him. Hatred against whoever had destroyed his city when he was very young. He learned quickly, which made Destane pleased. Destane was working on something powerful, but he would not tell Mozenrath; just that it would help him to conquer the Seven Deserts.
Then, when Mozenrath was a young teenager, Destane revealed the truth to him: that he had destroyed the boy’s home. Furious, Mozenrath wanted to know why, but Destane merely grinned that maniacal grin and gave him some riddle about wanting corpses. Why Destane would want corpses, Mozenrath couldn’t fathom… but he had found his target. In fact, Destane even gave him the idea that once the boy was strong enough, he could fight Destane to own the Land of the Black Sands. That was an intriguing concept for Mozenrath; having been born into power, he was already starting to seek it. So he played along with Destane for a few years.
When he turned sixteen, Destane sent him out on a mission - to scope out a small town that had been building up in the wreckage of his home city. Mozenrath barely remembered his home by then, but he was still innocent enough to feel some of the sadness just by walking through the streets.
And then he met Jade.
The girl showed him kindness like Destane never had; seeing his thin, pale body on the street, she had invited him into her home. Only sixteen - like him - she was intent upon building up the city again to its former glory. He told her flatly that it would never happen, but she was so certain. There was a burning desire in her eyes to do something good.
Mozenrath was starved of anything good.
When he came back to Destane, the man asked about the city, and Mozenrath shrugged, saying it was a simple rumor. The boy had learned the hard way when he was younger not to lie to Destane, but here he was, lying again, just because a girl he met made him hungry for acts of kindness. His mentor narrowed his eyes, but let it slip by. Little did young Mozenrath know that the cogs in Destane’s head were turning, ready to teach his apprentice another lesson the moment came along.
Any time Destane sent Mozenrath out on a mission, he would get the job done quickly so he could spend some time with Jade in the steadily building town. The two of them had, by no means, a perfect relationship; Mozenrath was already so far down the path of darkness that sometimes he got violent with her. But she still welcomed him into her home every time she saw him, because she was intent on her goal to cure whatever sickness she saw inside of him. Even then, it was doubtful she would succeed… but she tried.
Months later, Mozenrath came back to the city to find it burning.
Of course, Destane had been behind the whole thing. He’d used dark magic on the town, getting rid of its inhabitants quickly and efficiently, providing a whole new host of corpses for whatever he was planning. Mozenrath didn’t even have to go into the city to realize Jade was dead. He didn’t cry. He didn’t show any outward signs of weakness.
Instead, the hate so filled his core that he vowed he’d kill Destane the moment he got, kill him and take all his mentor’s power for his own. He created his eel familiar using a conjuring spell and named him Xerxes; but even then, there was very little attachment on his part to the eel.
Barely a year later, he found his chance. He discovered Destane had been constructing a powerful gauntlet, one that could reanimate dead corpses - which was why he was gathering so many in the first place. And not only could the gauntlet do that, but many other things. Mozenrath rested all his magic before the day of the fight with Destane. When the two finally did clash, Mozenrath unleashed the full extent of his power - power that Destane had taught him, practically handed to him on a silver platter. When he snatched the glove from Destane’s broken body, the man wheezed out a cough, grinning that maniacal grin, and spoke.
“You’re just like me, boy. My job is complete.”
And, without much ado, he died.
Mozenrath finally put on the gauntlet, and screeched out in pain as the gauntlet ate away at his right arm, tearing it away to nothing but bone. And a time limit was put in his life; a magical hourglass appeared in that room, ticking away to the time Mozenrath would die. But he had so much power at the time, he didn’t care. He all but forgot Jade and his home city, lost in his hatred and his lust for power; nothing else mattered to him.
Destane was the first body he reanimated, into something called a Mamluk.
(starting from here is where my creativity ends and what actually happens in the show begins... which isn't much, I might add.)
Many years later - still brooding in his Citadel, alone with Xerxes - he had an idea to get more power. He brought over a creature called the Thirdac from a different dimension. The Thirdac ingested magic, you see; magic was like food to him. But Mozenrath lost control of it, so he fled to the nearest city - Agrabah - and devised a sort of test; he set a flying creature loose on the city to see who could vanquish it, and then use that person to restrain the Thirdac. Aladdin, of course, did the job right, and Mozenrath sought to employ Aladdin. But he wouldn’t work for Mozenrath; not after he found out that the dark sorcerer had been the one to set the beast onto the town. So Mozenrath kidnapped Genie, took him to the Citadel, and told Aladdin quite plainly: if you don’t restrain that Thirdac, Genie will die.
Aladdin restrained the Thirdac, then feigned defeat. When Mozenrath’s guard was down, however, Aladdin launched a counterattack, and released the Thirdac onto Mozenrath, who was forced to send it back to its own dimension, thus making his plan null and void. With that, Mozenrath vowed revenge on Aladdin.
The two of them encountered each other eight more times. Often, Mozenrath would try to steal Genie and try to suck his powers away to take them for his own, or use Genie’s magic for other such awful things. Almost every time he and Aladdin encounter, Mozenrath was trying to find something that would enhance his own dark magic. The last time they met was when Mozenrath tried to switch bodies with Aladdin so he could live out a full life, as the gauntlet was sucking away his own life. Mozenrath ended up in Aladdin’s body, but Aladdin was still in there as well. In the end, Mozenrath was forced back into his own body… but because of the time he spent as Aladdin, he could live out a full, natural life.
But that still doesn’t seem to be enough for him, does it… because Mozenrath will do anything for power. And it might be far too late to change that.
ambitions:
- more power
- conquer the Seven Deserts
- revenge on Aladdin
- even more power
- become the most powerful sorcerer and necromancer of all time
- build his Mamluk army to limitless potential
- the deep, deep ambition inside of him is to go back to being a young, innocent boy… but that will never happen.
strengths && abilities:
- using his glove (includes teleportation, zapping people with magic, summoning monsters, etc.)
- coming up with plans
- creating Mamluks and ordering them around
- finding magic
- using magic
- reading people
- charming people
- killing people
- power over the black sand (which has dark magical properties itself)
flaws:
- his constant battle for power
- no hand-to-hand combat skills whatsoever
- not good at executing plans, a lot of things go wrong
- arrogance
- hatred
- snobbish treatment of everyone
- constant brooding, bringing his mood down even more
likes:
- himself
- power
- the gauntlet
- the thrill of killing
- manipulating people
- being alone
dislikes:
- himself
- power
- the gauntlet (haha, notice any repetition? Nice internal conflict you got going on there, Moze.)
- Aladdin
- Aladdin’s friends
- being nice and polite
- weakness
- Xerxes (some of the time)
fears:
- losing any of his power
- death (sort of)
- losing his power
- losing his power
- losing MORE of his power
- being bested by Aladdin AGAIN
- something more powerful than he coming along
- his own past
- his own thoughts
- himself
- power
- the gauntlet (*** IT’S A PATTERN.)
what makes this character unique: I have never seen a character so freakin’ obsessed with power. I mean, all right, all villains like power, that’s what makes them VILLAINS, but I’ve never seen anyone driven this mad in a quest for power. Heck he let his flesh get basically burned off for power. That’s ridiculous. Plus he’s a man of contradictions and layers… I’d like to build on those layers. He might even have the capability of being good one day.
… might.
… in an ideal world.
… with no possibility of him going after power again.
RP SAMPLE: (taken off of one of my posts on my own site, The Island of Elitref)
‘It sounded as if the streets were running, / And then the streets stood still.’
Hmm. Dickinson, Rae observed, pausing for a moment to dwell on the poet’s voice in her mind. The Storm, I believe.
The island’s advisor had been perusing Emily Dickinson’s poetry recently in her tiny little basement beneath Kasey’s mansion, so it was not unexpected when the verses became tangled within the real world, making connections to things she’d barely pause to take a second glance at in normal times. Pages upon pages of the woman’s work laid currently on her desk - and strewn over the floor. She’d taken her favorite red pen and added her own thoughts to photocopies of some of her favorite poems; admittedly, all were here favorite, but that was besides the point - and heaven forbid her actually mark up the book! No, better to mark up a scratch sheet with copied words than meddle with a book so old it was already falling apart. Raelynn stopped in her walk to lament the loss of probably more than a few of Dickinson’s great works, the binding being so old and decrepit - and overused, probably - that the pages scattered with the barest hint of a breeze.
Then she was off again, internally berating herself for becoming lost in her thoughts again. Come now, Raelynn, surely you’re able to fight off the desire to think a thousand thoughts at once! You’ve had twenty-one years of practice, for goodness’ sake! Yet, the young woman’s mind wandered far too much for her own liking, though she could hardly help it; her mind begged to be filled up with knowledge, already impatient with what she learned and dying for some fresh meat. She shook her head at her own scatterbrained habits, though continued on her route.
Tonight’s summer walk included a visit to the old ruins. No, they probably weren’t safe to visit at night, though Rae was confident; she’d been here many times and had yet to be attacked, mugged, or raped. Still, shivers crept up her spine at the awe-inspiring sight of years of work a crumbling mess - admittedly not from fear, however. Her blue-violet eyes scoured the wreckage, heart pumping just as quickly as it always did whenever she arrived, as if this were the first time and she was only sixteen again.
Rae stepped hesitantly through, all of her senses alert. Notoriously clumsy, she wouldn’t be surprised if she landed face-first in that scary jagged glass over there, but she was determined to make it through unscathed. She found herself between two old, broken buildings in what used to be the streets, and her eyes closed again, letting the memories wash over her. The joys of having a photographic memory… She could hear the shouts and the laughter, the fights and the jokes. The words from Dickinson’s poem came back to her with new meaning - how had streets this lively, this fast barely even whispered now, and maybe they only spoke to her? It frightened her how something she loved so fiercely could just…be silenced.
Like her tribe…
The raven-haired woman took a deep, shuddering breath, clearing her mind of her tribe - for the moment. There would be another time for that, in another place entirely - though one that whispered to her just the same. She’d visit the ruins of her old homeland sometime, maybe not soon, but someday; she just had to mentally prepare herself first.
She sat on a low, broken wall that was clear of sharp glass and closed her eyes, fully prepared to immerse herself in vivid memories for the rest of the night.
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