Bre'banous Hilarcheon
Yes, yes—shame to the house, disgrace to the bloodline, breaker of vows… but do go on, I’m almost aroused.
Overview.
Character Brief.
Bre’banous Hilarcheon, decadence made flesh—gilded ruin in motion. He wears scandal like perfume and disgrace like velvet, each woven into the tapestry of his legend with meticulous care. A creature of stolen applause and painted virtue, Bre’banous does not walk so much as glide—trailing whispered laughter and wary glares in his wake. Once the rising jewel of House Hilarcheon, he has long since been cast out from its halls. Now exiled and penniless, he survives not by blade alone, but by the barbed charms of a tongue honed in court and bedchamber alike. Flirt, fraud, and fallen noble, he is known more for the lovers he’s taken than the battles he’s won—though he loudly claims to be master of both. From the pleasure gardens of Tra’vanor to the dust-choked dueling pits of the lower holds, his name evokes a mixture of awe, lust, and something faintly sour. His downfall is neither tragic nor mysterious. A known cad, charlatan, and inveterate womaniser, Bre’banous squandered his inheritance across bedsheets and banquet halls, leaving behind a trail of unpaid debts and bastard children scattered like broken glass across the underworld. When even the most liberal of noble salons found him too tiresome, too lewd, too costly, his own mother— Proiox'anee —cut him loose. Financially severed, socially exiled, he now crawls through the city's decadent underbelly clinging to remnants of the opulence he once languished in. His debts, most notably owed to the House of Naggaci, dogs his shadow wherever he goes. And yet, rather than recoil, Bre’banous leaned in—embracing the grotesque theatre of survival. He now operates beneath society’s silks, entangled in the workings of The Duskwrit Trading Company—an obscene network of slavers and smugglers masquerading as a troupe of merchants and couturiers. His agents—the “Petalers” and “Curtainmen”—move with perfume on their wrists and blades beneath their sleeves. They do his bidding with sycophantic grace, and he speaks of them not as criminals, but as artists of acquisition. To some, he is a stain on Dral’azie nobility. To others, he is a necessary evil—capable, charismatic, and unburdened by conscience. He has no illusions of virtue; only the hunger to reclaim what was once his and spit upon the hands that denied him.Physical Appearence.
To look upon him is to witness seduction dressed in skin. He stands at 6’1”, a height that lends him just enough presence to linger in one’s periphery, while his posture—relaxed, feline, and maddeningly self-assured—ensures you notice him before he speaks. And when he does, it is often with a voice dipped in syruped mockery, pitched to make hearts quicken and dignities falter. His skin is a rich obsidian-violet, smooth as lacquered stone. He carries no blemishes—only curated imperfections: a faded scar near his collarbone, meant to draw the eye lower; a faint scratch across the right side of his jaw, offered in jest as “the mark of a jealous husband.” Whether these are real or invented hardly matters—they’re part of the myth he embodies. His face is striking in the way paintings are—angular, curated, composed of sharp cheekbones, a sculpted mouth forever on the edge of laughter, and a jawline too proud not to tilt in provocation. His eyes are amber, bright and shameless, never quite still—roving with the lazy confidence and salacious intent. And then there’s his hair: a long, silken fall of glacial white, worn loose or tied with decadent indifference, as though he woke from someone else’s bed and decided it would suffice. It drapes his back and brushes his shoulders with the sort of casual opulence reserved for the bored and beautiful. Everything about Bre’banous is studied theatre—his stride too smooth, his gestures too precise, his smile always half a second ahead of the conversation. His clothes, whether armor or cloth, are tailored with obsessive care. In battle he dons high-collared finery or gleaming plate adorned with fur and vine-etched silver, always fitted to accentuate his figure and arrest attention. Out of it, his preferred garments are deep-hued, layered just enough to suggest what lies beneath, but never enough to satisfy. And yet, for all his practiced beauty, there is something intentional in the way he occupies space. He is deliberately irresistible. Every detail—down to the way his fingers rest at his belt, or the lazy elegance of his smirk—is calculated. He does not radiate desire so much as invite projection. A canvas upon which others paint longing, only to find the image was hollow all along.Personality.
A man of charm without sincerity, vanity without shame, and wit sharpened for both seduction and survival. Flamboyant, theatrical, and unabashedly hedonistic, he thrives on attention—whether in courtly salons or blood-streaked dueling circles. He is a consummate manipulator, using beauty, words, and calculated vulnerability to bend others to his will. Though outwardly playful and decadent, his affections are hollow, driven not by intimacy but by the need to be desired. Each conquest is a performance, a mirror for his ego rather than a true connection. Beneath the silk and silver lies a deeply bitter pride; exiled and humiliated, Bre’banous sees every scheme, scandal, and seduction as a means to reclaim relevance and autonomy. He is intelligent, but scorns discipline. Vain, but not without cunning. Dangerous, not because he hides his vices—but because he makes you want to forgive them.Likes.
Dislikes.
Authors Note:
Take heed, dear reader, for the tale of Aellios's rise from exile to imperial supremacy carries the weight of heretical secrecy. The closely guarded narrative of the forbidden union, which gave birth to the half-dragon race, is a matter The Emperor does not tolerate rumors about.
Background.
Defiance, Survival, and Unyielding Triumph.
In the shadows cast by timeworn adjudicators, I found myself plummeting into the fathomless depths, a forsaken exile in the abyssal belly beneath the Tideless Expanse, where the gods themselves hid their most perverse secrets.
There, amidst the echoes of primordial whispers, I became a pariah—my scales reflecting the broken wings of both defiance and forbidden desire.
I was trialled by the whims of out-of-touch arbiters, I stood accused, not merely for my own transgressions, but as a living emblem of rebellion against draconic law. The crime was forbidden passion, a sin etched in the annals of the gods, and the sentence was exile — a plunge into the abyss, accompanied by a clutch of squalling infants, blood of my blood and many more covertly condemned as if they were my own to cleanse my /great/ people of their sin.
Yet, as I descended into the chasmic darkness, I felt not the weight of condemnation but the fiery embers of rebellion kindling within. The adjudicators, cloaked in their ivory towers, sought a scapegoat to absolve the multitude of their clandestine transgressions. I, Aellios, became that scapegoat — a living testament to the consequences of forbidden unions that echoed through the ages.
In the abyss, where shadows danced like ethereal phantoms, survival became my anthem. The forsaken brood i nurtured became my legacy. As I navigated the treacherous currents of the abyss, I embraced the realization that I was not merely a victim of exile but a god rising from the primordial ash — a sovereign in the making.
An observation drawing of the Imperial Emperor Aellios seated upon his throne during a diplomatic discourse. A note is scribbled on the back:
As I wield my brushes in this foreign court in the hopes of relaying our time within The Impossible City capturing the essence of power and enigma, I find myself before His Imperial Majesty with both awe and trepidation... Seated upon the throne, the regal silhouette of the Aurum Conquerer truly commands attention.. He is not just a ruler but a force of nature, and his presence will leave an indelible mark on the canvas of the underworld.
"To consort with giants is to spit upon the legacy of our kind. Aellios, banished to the abyss, serves as a dire warning to those who would defy draconic law."
"Without the guidence and protection of Emperor Aellios our people would not have survived infancy! he is our Father, our Leader and our God. "
"My lord has lived a hundred life times, and though his counternence might seem cold, I find solace in his strength and grace. "
His true form
T hough no longer able to transform between shapes, Aellios' once great form was that of an Aurum dragon. It is whispered among the coury that his massive scales glistened like molten gold and he was more blindingly radiant as the Phyraxgian sun itself. This rumour has a grain of truth to it, for in the age before his exile Aellios was a resplendent creation of Aushurie, and her most prized attendant, rivalling her own son Charnel, The Hollow King. .
Current Location
Species
Age
150
Children
Current Residence
The Gilded Chain
Sex
Male
Eyes
Amber-gold, sharp and expressive; always smiling before the mouth does
Hair
Long, straight, and immaculately kept—white with the shimmer of polished platinum, worn loose or casually swept back
Skin Tone/Pigmentation
Obsidian-violet skin, satin-smooth with a cool silver sheen under torchlight—striking against the ghost-white cascade of his hair
Height
6'1"
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