Now I find this thread to be fascinating. I especially liked Vanesha; a very interesting character!
My favorite character I have created was one that I made about ten years ago. It goes without saying, however, that he has evolved over the years of course. His name is Master Drakken Blackblade, and he is one of the few people in history to achieve the title of Sword Saint. The offspring of a goddess and a demon, his appearance defies his ancestry. He stands at 6' 2", and weighs 237 lbs. with his armor. He is a handsome 26 year old man, with masculine features kinda like Hugh Jackman

. His hair is jet black, slicked and pulled into a ponytail that falls right about to his shoulder-blades. His ponytail is kept together by a gold circlet about 3 inches in length at the base of his skull. His eyes are silver, and glow. His standard wear is a silver cuirass with two black lions facing each other on their hind legs, silver pauldrons and gauntlets. His gauntlets are more like bracers, as the hand is covered by a mysterious black leather, and the metal covers his forearm and the back of his hand. He wears black breeches, and tan leather boots that come up to his knee caps. He also wears a black waist cape that comes down to the middle of his shin, which is secured to his belt. He wields an 8' dai-katana known as the Juuchi Yosamu (ten-thousand winters). The sword is black and red, as if its blade is forever stained with the blood of those it slays. It is a cursed sword, with a domination attribute. Anyone who uses it slowly has their mind corrupted and twisted, until eventually they become nothing but killing machines. It takes a very long time, as it is a subtle process. I think that covers it for his appearance. Sorry its so long, but I can see quite clearly in my mind what he looks like.
He was once proclaimed the "Hero of Heroes", and was the greatest champion of good the world had ever seen. Bards sang his praises, and the people blessed his name. His strength and skill were known around the land. He spent most of his life using his abilities to protect the innocent, and preserve justice and virtue. Eventually, he took a wife and she bore him a son. He finally put down his blade and retired to living the simple life. The years passed, and other heroes made their names known. Life was good; Drakkens son was now 5, and his wife was pregnant with their next child. He left to the woods one day to gather firewood and to do some hunting, leaving his family back at their small cottage outside the city of Kelendol. It was no secret that the captain of the city watch was corrupt; his mind consumed by greed and cruelty. On this particular day, he went with his men to collect taxes from the good folk of the city, as he always does; but he noticed the lone cottage on the outskirts of the city. They rode to the cottage and demanded payment. Drakkens wife said that they do not live in the city, therefore they owe him no tax. The captain advanced toward her, saying that he can simply take the tax "another way". Panicking, she grabbed a nearby knife and drove it into his side. The captain grew angered, and struck the woman to the ground. He barked orders at his men, telling them to kill the woman and her child as an example to the rest of the people. Meanwhile, Drakken had just started heading back with wood and a freshly killed deer, when he noticed a light on the horizon.
His home was on fire.
He dropped his things and raced as fast as his legs would carry him; faster even. He approached the burning house, a cold fear penetrating his soul. He called out his families names, hoping; praying that they were all right. Until at last he came to two smoldering corpses. A small one, and a larger one. He wanted to cry, to scream in defiance. But he couldnt. Instead, the most unusual sound rose up in his throat. Laughter. He couldnt stop laughing. Tears ran down his face, but the laughter persisted. Why would the gods, whom he had fought for all his life, spit in his face like this? After all he has done to keep the people of this world safe? It was at this moment that his cursed sword took advantage of his weakened will, and seeped poison into his mind. His boot hit something on the ground and he looked to see what it was. It was a medallion, the kind given to Kelendol guards. In a flash, the maniacal laughter ceased, and was replaced with a feral snarling. Rage and the pain of grief racked his soul, and he charged towards the city like an animal.
And just like that; in the span of one night; the once thriving city of Kelendol was reduced to nothing more than a burned out ghost town. He butchered the people. He killed men, women, and children. No amount of death could slake his thirst. He stood there after it was over. In the middle of town, surrounded by the bodies of those he once fought to protect, he thought to himself. This world was corrupt; full of filth and chaos. The only way to ensure a peaceful world would be too force peace. And so, he left the city, and began his journey towards a shining future...
Hmm... I think I got into a little too much... When inspiration hits me, sometimes it can be hard to stop... I kinda feel like it was a little too hardcore. Umm...if it is just tell me and Ill take it down. Sorry...