Knox

[Wretched 2041]

 

 

Nicknames: T'e Pumpkin Lord

Age: 72

Gender: Male

Race: Wood elf

Status: Very much alive

 

Description

 

Height: 7ft

Weight: Shockingly light

Body Type: Thin, wiry structure.

Eyes: A dark shade of red.

Hair: Jet-black, short and fine. However this is concealed by his pumpkin mask.

Skin: A very light shade of brown. Yet Knox will never willingly reveal his skin.

Markings/Tattoos: Knox does not believe in tattoos, however every inch of his skin from head to toe is covered in a variety of self-inflicted wounds and scars, hence why he will never show his face, nor his skin.

Health: Physically stable, yet mentally insane on a scale alien to most.

Personality: Knox will always have himself put first, showing little regard for those around him whatsoever. Despite his mentality, he shows compassion in the most unlikely of places: The halflings, even if they were easy targets, had grown an attachment to Knox and he to them. Yet his unstable mind could cause his most dearest of friends to become an enemy, or perhaps an enemy to a friend. When he may appear compassionate towards others at a first glance, there is usually something more.

Inventory: Knox does not wear armour, nor carry much at all bar his selection of needles of which he keeps concealed within his sleeve and a specifically chosen knife each day. His inventory will vary every so often as a new blade takes his fancy, yet each time a knife. And the most obvious item at his disposal, would be the pumpkin his tirelessly wears both day and night.

Further Details: If people were able to see through his psychotic appearance, some may notice that his goals are noble. He wishes for nothing more than to defend the very fabric of the world from its inhabitants. For the natural world had suffered greatly at the hands of mortals, but Knox would see that such dastardly, careless sins were accounted for and prevented. Usually, via the tip of his twisted-looking knives.

 

Life Style

 

Alignment*: Chaotic Evil

Deity*: N/A

Religion: N/A

Alliance/Nation/Home
Job/Class: Knox is not one to align himself with anything or anybody, he must remain as a neutral power.

Title(s): T'e Pumpkin Lord, God of the halfling's harvest.

Profession(s): Murder, organised chaos, master of fear, and tailoring his most elegant of clothing.

Special Skill(s): There is nothing particularly outstanding about Knox to be classed as 'special', it is all the minor things that make him what he is. He is silent and graceful, yet nothing more. He would see his agility win him over a fight rather than strength.

Flaw(s): Knox, having removed the upper-halves of his ears, has exceptionally poor hearing and the fact that he wears a pumpkin atop his head at every occasion doesn't aid this. His wiry, bony body structure makes him an easy target to the armoured foe, and his strength could quite easily be overcome by a 16 year-old boy.

 

Weaponry

 

Fighting Style: Knox acts in a similar way as a scorpion would. He will first analyse his target to ridiculous levels, he may be performing random actions, as if delaying something as he examines even the most minor of details of his foe. And when said details have been gathered and formulated into a plan, he will slide the knife from his jacket and perform sharp, quick slashing movements to certain areas of the body before launching himself back, aiming to gradually weaken the foe into a state where Knox may do as he wish.

After the foe has been rendered into this state, Knox will be sure to make their passing as painful and for-longed as humanely possible. He will draw his selection of needle to poke through the skin, bursting veins and arteries, slicing down the skin only to peel sections away, removing and consuming the eyes, consuming minor organs before finally performing the killing blow in the most horrid manner. His latest fancy, is ramming a large iron nail through their neck to leave them suspended against a tree.

Preferred Weapon: Knox's latest addition to his family of knives would be a slightly larger knife than usual with jagged teeth running down the length of one side, with a handle made of bone. This weapon is designed to fit neatly into a small clip within his jacket just like all the other knives under his possession.

Favored Weapon: Although not entirely efficient, Knox will always favor his large selection of needles carried on him within the fabric of his left sleeve at all times. These needles are not like your usual sewing needles, these needles are the things of nightmares, each one extremely fine and extremely sharp, each one stretching to about 60cm long.

Archery: Knox, although an elf, has never trained in the art of the bow. He feels as if it would be the cowards weapon to use, and that knives and needles provide him with a much more satisfying sense of control.

 

Biography

 

Parents: Knox's parents are an important part of his history, yet they are now both dead.

Siblings: Knox has one sister known as 'Fae', yet he hasn't seen her in many years.

Children: N/A

Extended Family: N/A

Pet(s): N/A

 

History

 

Knox's childhood had taken place in a small elven village within Asulon not far from the elven capital itself: Normandor. He had lived, up to this point, quite a happy life, a pleasant life, yet nobody could foretell what was to happen to Knox, nobody had known the extend of his condition. Knox had been born into his family along with his twin sister 'Fae', yet unlike her, he had been born with an unnamed condition that meant he would react in unpredictable ways to the most simple of things. A good example of this, would be the time he'd thrown a rock at the head of another child when she asked Knox his name, he then proceeded to walk up to where she lie and kick her unconscious body numb.

 

And so this continued. The people of the small village grew used to Knox, and were quite content with him living among them if his parents kept him at bay. And that's exactly what they did. His parents stop treating him like a person, and instead more like a science experiment gone wrong. They even went to the extent of keeping him locked away in his room, as well as having his sister taken away to live with another household. His parents didn't want him, they wanted Fae, but he was too dangerously unpredictable to keep them together, and due to the fact that nobody would take Knox: that was the last he saw of her for many, many years.

 

Knox, now at the age of 15, began to worsen. His condition was becoming more apparent and this was also being noticed by his parents. But what they did next, was the worst thing they could have possibly done. They began to teach Knox about the natural world and what it means to protect it in a last resort attempt to distract his mind onto a path that may lead to a peaceful future in druidism. Yet little did they know that these teaching were only giving him both reason, and purpose. His parents would practically brainwash him on a day-to-day basis, and naturally, it worked. Knox's impression on the world had vastly changed, but it had only made everything, so much worse.

 

Knox's condition didn't make another reappearance for a few, cold months. And so at the age of 18, they allowed him out of his room to wander about the house until they were certain it was safe for him to rejoin the community of their village. Yet almost instantly upon them opening the door, he calmly walked down the stairs, grabbed a single knife from the countertop of the kitchen, walked outside and plunged the knife deep into the neck of a boy he used to know from when he was little. And at that moment, a wave of uneasy silence flooded over the village.

 

Knox began to run, his firm grip on the knife unfaltering. He darted into the forest as the sudden realisation of what he had just done buzzed through his brain like an angry swarm of locusts, yet this was not remorse he was feeling, this was plain and utter pleasure. Knox had discovered what he did best, and he swore an oath to himself that his parents teachings would never leave him. He would see to it that no further harm would come to the natural world that was able to thrive even in the darkest of times. But then, he himself had been abusing the gifts on nature his entire life...

 

Knox flicked the knife up to his own neck, prepared to pour the entire content of his blood over the ground beneath his feet until another thought crossed his mind: Everybody in his village had been doing the same, and if he was dead, who would punish them? But of course, he himself couldn't go unpunished, so he gently ran the blade across his own skin, screeching in pain as he would riddle his body with so many cuts on that day, that it had almost killed him. Soon after his recovery, he had set off once more to find the silent village sleeping peacefully away the night, that was until Knox visited of course.

 

Knox had strode up to his parents house, pushed gently against the door, walked silently up the steps on the tips of his toes, opened the bedroom door... And there they lay, his parents that had shaped him into the monster he is. Their pain would be brief, had just like all the others, they had to die. Knox twirled the knife above his head only to bring it crashing down through the neck of his father. The noise caused his mother to burst her eyes open, screaming in pure terror at the gruesome sight of her own son spilling the frothing red blood of her dearest lover. Knox curled his wrist up the throw the knife over towards the screaming parent, having it land with perfect aim through her mouth, tearing open her throat with a pathetic gurgle.

 

And then the shouting began, Knox threw himself through the back window only to dash into the woods once more before they had a chance to discover him. Suddenly, he felt free... He knew what he was doing was right, and this world of tainted corruption would fall at the very seams around him, this he knew for certain. This world had brought up a new enemy, and Knox would see life itself destroyed before anything else. Yet as he fled, he came to an abrupt halt before the village's farm. His aimless gaze landed firmly onto a moderately sized pumpkin, freshly grown and ripe for the picking. And what better badge of fear than the mask of nature itself? Knox knelt beside the pumpkin, cutting a hole in the bottom and emptying out the inside. He then proceeded to carve a terrifying face into the side, before lifting it up to place neatly over his head. And with that, the psychopath was born.

 

Artwork

 

[Kaiser 1366]

*Also Halfling God*

[Saviordude 133]

HAIL T'E PUMPKIN LORD!