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Death
Death
Juan Ponce de Leon y Figueroa

Concept:

Energy Blaster

Nationality:

Spanish

Place of Birth:

San Tervas de Campos, Spain

Date of Birth:

8 January 1474

Hair/Eye Color:

Black/Brown

Height/Weight:

5' 11" / 170 lbs

Status

Member of TAROT


BackgroundEdit

1521: "Stand up, savage!" shouted Governor Juan Ponce de Leon striking the pack-bearer with the butt of his musket. He motioned to a conquistador nearby with his arm then remounted his nearly pale white horse. He commanded in a harsh voice to the Indian walking in front of his horse, "Continue on." It was already a week since they had left the colony of La Florida, the colony that Ponce de Leon himself had founded. And they would need to turn back soon. The supplies would run out otherwise.

So, he pushed them. Pushed them even more than he normally pushed his men and his slaves. de Leon growled at the Indian on the end of the tether that he held, "You said you know the way. Find it. I hold your tribe's life. If we return without me tasting the waters of the Fount, half you tribe shall perish including all of your children. Need I remind you?" "Patience, please, Senor. I have heard of the location, but have not visited it myself," replied the elder of the tribe. The man plodded onward, trying to recall the directions to the place. He had watched the stars the past night and looked for the landmarks throughout their excruciating march - a copse of pine as large as a village, a lone cypress two men tall amongst a sea of sawgrass. Through the sweltering heat and still air, he led Ponce de Leon's company of conquistadors and their packbearers, some were from his own tribe while others were from islands in the ocean. And here it was, a lake full of egrets, ibises, herons, and moorhens - much more densely populated than anyone might imagine possible. Behind was a low rising hill, perhaps higher than any he'd seen in all his days. Oak rose above and behind the more typical sawgrass, mangrove, and cypress. A quick glance to the others of his tribe told them that this, indeed was the place, and from their faces, the elder could tell that he was not the only among the group that was fearful of it. Youth, life, freedom from disease were the promises of the waters of the Fountain of Youth. But, in the stories that were passed through the generations of his tribe, always there was a hint that death would be unleashed should anyone find it without purity of purpose. The Governor became aware of the unease from the village elder and from the packbearers that came from the tribe. When the savage slowed the expedition down as they skirted the lake, Juan Ponce de Leon maneuvered his horse right next to the man and struck him firmly on the shoulder with his sword's scabbard. As the heathen tottered and fell into the mud, Ponce de Leon shouted, "Up! Up! And no stalling. We must be near. Where?! Up yon rise?!" A nod of the elder's head, Ponce de Leon pointed at a handful men, "You! Bring the mules up the hill - if it can be called a hill. All others with me!" The pale white stallion broke into a trot and then a gallop. The two other mounted conquistadors followed three lengths behind the governor and the footmen ran as fast as they could to keep up through the oak and pine. Myriads of small animals scampered out of the way as the group passed through. Numerous birds took flight and even a panther was seen running into the brush. At the top of the hill, they saw a large sink hole. The Spaniards dismounted and peered over the edge of the hole to view a pond, not more than one horse length of diameter. Cool, soothing air arose from the hole and the sound of a low gurgle. And within the midst of the pond arose a low, but steady fountain, whose waters scattered on a small rock below. "A rope! And quickly!" yelled the Governor. One of the mounted conquistadors retrieved a rope from his saddle pack and handed it to his anxious superior. Ponce de Leon and two others quickly secured the rope to a sturdy oak. Two minutes the mad scramble went first from drinking of the water with their helmets to bathing within it. True to legend, the draught of the fount was invigorating. Ponce de Leon felt younger: the strength and agility of youth was now combined with wisdom of having lived over six decades. The skin on his hand showed few wrinkles now and was much smoother. It seemed as though he were thirty years younger. He desired to look upon his face in the mirrored surface of the pond, but that was not to be. Not with the water filled with splashing men now and beginning to become muddied and tainted with the oils and dirt from all of their skin and clothing. (How long would this last?) he wondered. Then the governor smiled as he gazed upon the Stone of the Fount. It was clear that this was the magical source of the power that made youth. The waters from the fountain of the spring seemed to briefly glow iridescently as it struck the Stone. The Stone itself bore petroglyphs that resembled some of those seen in others of the Indian islands, but in some ways were different, too. The size of a fist, it was easy to seize the Stone and put it into his pouch. There was something invigorating about holding the Stone and keeping it. Ponce de Leon closed his eyes as he felt energy coursing through his body. There was a certain rapture in the experience and a certainty that eternal youth was his and death could no longer touch him. Minutes passed, but he was unaware of time. Then the invigorating rush slowly diminished. Ponce de Leon gazed at the mirrored surface of the pond beneath him. There was the face of the handsome scoundrel, the poor but energetic young nobleman of San Tervás de Campos. Clear, smooth skin. No crow's feet or gray hairs. There were bones and skin withered upon bones now sunk into the pond dressed in well worn clothing that seemed match the decayed bodies. The clothing, arms, and equipment of his men. Ponce de Leon knew that it was they who had supplied the energy that he had felt. His men had all perished. So, he set out to the colony and reached it on the eve of the third day. Finding his quarters, he lay in the bed with his savage bedslave, hoping that he was wrong in what he thought had happened. The next morning he awoke once again invigorated, and sat up next to the slave's withered body and decayed dress. A walk around the colony affirmed his thoughts and he fled. It was nearly two centuries after that a man addressing himself as The Emperor found the walking death wandering in the wilds of the saguaro-studded desert of North America. The man still looked like he was in his early twenties of age, but with sallow sunken features and was accompanied by three ghostly spirits who were somehow attracted to the man. Ponce de Leon was no more, he was only Death now. He would fit well into his role for TAROT. The spell which bound him to The Emperor was not a simple one and one that would not work on most; in fact he had only used it twice before, once successfully. And so did Death came to TAROT.


Personality and MotivationsEdit

Once a harsh and violent man, Juan has suffered much loss of family and friends. All who were once close to him withered away quickly in his presence. It has been centuries since he has thought of himself as Juan Ponce de Leon. He is just Death now. A cold man who knows no emotion and seeks only to soothe his thirst for life force. Found wandering through the New World bringing death to the Native Americans, he was ensorcelled by The Emperor of TAROT to be used as a potent tool. He no longer takes life energy from just anyone, only whomever The Emperor desires. Still, he can not be called a humble man.


QuoteEdit

"Your life is mine."


Powers and AbilitiesEdit

Death is an "energy vampire" whos uses his gift to feed on the life force of those around him - weakening his victims while in turn recovering from injury and becoming temporariy more resilient. As far as anyone knows Death is immune to the ravages of time, and is impossible to kill.

When Death first gained his powers, he had little control over them, but over the centuries, with the help of The Emperor, he can usually pick and choose who to affect.

AppearanceEdit

Death appears to be a vigorous man in his early thirties. He favors wearing baggy clothing along with a gold-studded leather belt and gold necklaces reminiscent of the time period he spent most of his early years in.

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