NAME. Paris AĆĄhar
AGE & BIRTH DATE. 3,000+ and Unknown
GENDER & PRONOUNS. Male & He/Him
SPECIES. Manticore
OCCUPATION. Pirate
FACE CLAIM. Alperen Duymaz
Paris was born in the city of Troy, nameless and with a future that would spell disaster for his family. His mother did not bother to give him a name; he would be dead from exposure by the next day. At least, that was the plan. A seer had told his parents that he would one day be the ruin of his homeland. To protect themselves, Priam and Hecuba decided that he would no longer be their child, and they would pay someone else to do the deed of ridding them of their son. The chief herdsman, Agelaus, took Paris himself, but he, too, could not bring himself to kill the child. Instead, he raised him as his own. He named him after the bag he carried him in, and was raised as a shepherd instead of the prince he had been born as.
As a young man, Paris found his own desires and destiny on the hills of Mount Ida. He had no idea it was the mountain he was intended to die on as a child, but his past never once darkened the future he saw for himself. He was no stranger to the gods, either. In fact, it was the dryads whom he found fast friendships with â and the very first love that he knew. The dryads were around in the beginning; in the Golden Age that Paris had heard so much about. They knew his heart, and he knew theirs. Loving them was easy, and it was natural. When the Dryads would return to their trees, Paris would spend night beneath them, whispering about the tales heâd been told â no matter how far from the original the others had said they were. This was his life, and it was all he needed.
But the fates would not be circumvented, and the moment Hermes came for him, he was unable to say no. The gods promised to give him the life he wanted with the dryads he loved, if only he could solve a dispute between the goddesses. Hera, Athena, and Aphrodite â who was the most beautiful? A golden apple of discord thrown by Eris herself; all Paris could think of was how they shouldâve just invited her to the wedding in the first place. Perhaps it spoke volumes that Zeus could not make a decision even with his wife in the discussion, but the deed fell to Paris. His heart belonged to others, but even he could not decide. He was only human, and therefore he was far from perfect. The goddesses instead attempted bribery â from Hera, ownership of all the known land. From Athena, the greatest war abilities known. And from Aphrodite, the love of the most beautiful woman. To Paris, there was no choice in this, either. Not until Aphrodite changed her bribe â where he could know the purest form of love. In his mind, it would only be knowledge shared among the two that held his heart. Not the promise of the other half of his soul â the one Zeus tore from all humans when they were born.
Helen of Sparta was that other half, and there was no denying the connection when they met. This was in secret, of course. Aphrodite had teleported him to her kingdom in Sparta â trapped to a marriage with Menelaus. They planned an escape from the city, hightailing it back to the land of Troy. But it was then that everything started to fall apart. Priam had learned from Agelaus that his son had not died after birth like it was intended, and now he needed protection. Arguably, Paris insisted that they would be fine away from the city, in the hills of Troyâs kingdom, where they would not be found. The dryads would protect them â Paris had told them of his plans. Helen was the other part of him, therefore, they would have the solution.
That never came to pass, however, as the invading army from Greece trapped them within the walls of Troy. Menelaus on a mission to bring home his wife, and Agamemnon with the strength of Achilles and the Myrmidons behind them. Paris knew what he had to do â to cause less bloodshed, he challenged Menelaus to single combat. His skills lied with the bow and arrow heâd used his whole life, so he was no match for the strength and wisdom of Menelaus with a sword and shield. In fact, Paris was more than willing to die â but only if it meant that Helen would have a chance to escape in the aftermath of his death. Maybe then heâd be able to go with the dryads to Elysium, or wherever they were able to visit with Gaiaâs help.
It was Aphrodite who saved him, though she only pushed back the inevitable. Full scale war broke out, the clashing armies of Greece and Troy now fighting to bring Helen home â or to let her stay. All attempts to flee were blocked; death was at their gates. Though he was always just a pawn in the mind of the gods; Apollo guided his hand as he took his last stand. His arrow brought down Achilles, and it was an arrow from Philoctetes that would spell his own death. There was no time for him to say goodbye. No goodbye to Helen, and no goodbye to Gael and Aster, just a mountain top where he would be left to die.
Oenone, a river-nymph and daughter of Oceanus, had the ability to heal all wounds. It was Aphrodite who promised his love to the nymph if she would save him. Oenone did â but Paris held no love for her, either. It was her father who cursed him for the break of a promise heâd never made. Oceanus turned him into an incubus, forever cursed to feed on the souls of the living. But that wasnât enough for the titan. He knew that Parisâ love was for the dryads, the land dwelling children of Gaia. Paris would live as long as he lived upon Oceanusâ or his descendantâs domain. The rivers or the oceans, of course. The longer he spent on land, the more likely he was to die. Whether that be by the shapeshifters of the world, or the Titan himself, it was yet to be decided.
So Paris took to the sea. He would sail to be as close as he could be to the dryads, who had moved back to the mainland of Greece. Paris would visit them as much as he could, until the titans faded from existence, taking Gael and Aster as well. The incubusâ mistake was thinking that with the fall of the Titans, he, too, was free from his curse. However, Poseidon inherited the seas â and so he inherited Parisâ curse and immortality. Paris mourned the dormant nature of the dryads that held his heart, and he spent far too long on land besides their tree. It was his bow and arrow that saved him, though the more shifters he killed, the more he was hunted.
The only place Paris found safety was upon a ship. For years, he would swap between vessels. Nothing could harm him, and as captains came and went, Paris found himself no longer a young man, but a weathered old soldier whoâd known love and loss, and once Aphrodite could no longer reach him, he was utterly alone. The centuries passed, and the more naval warfare that he entered, the more lost Paris felt. He was jaded, treated the humans he would steal souls from as nothing but a body to pass the time. Witches who no longer had magic because of him would only recognize it too late, and he remained impervious on the ocean.
It wasnât until he became captain of his own ship that he began to spread more terror than he thought was possible. Paris had never fit in, anywhere heâd gone, so he decided to make a life for himself as a pirate captain. Mutiny was easy thanks to his charm; the cubi easily became captain of a ship where a crew loved him. The only issue was the fact that he would have to dock every few weeks to replenish the crew â downside of being an Incubus. He would ensure to stop by Corinthia every few months, telling tales of his adventures to Gael and Aster as they slept. Anyone who came too close to the dryadâs resting place would meet their death with an arrow to the heart.
As the Golden Age of piracy spread, so did the shipâs crew. Immortals who needed a place to call home found his ship, and quickly it became all of theirs. Paris had never truly had a family outside of the ones heâd left behind in Troy all those centuries ago, but these reapers, furies â they became his family. Paris would stop at nothing to defend them, pillaging throughout the world as piracy became their main agenda. It was yet again another time that Paris had pushed his luck upon land â close to the docks, waiting too long for another of their crew. A snake, hidden among belongs, and a bite that poisoned his blood instantly. Paris should have known, perhaps he shouldâve been far more careful, as well. It took him slowly, long enough to where he felt the rock of the waves hit the ship, and the gaze of his friend before his own vision went dark.
The pit of Tartarus welcomed him. Typhon, with all his rage, and the eternal torment and despair that awaited him gave him nothing but hell to witness. Countless times he was torn apart, his soul shattered piece by piece. Crudely he was put back together, for centuries and centuries, until his soul was no longer recognizable. Paris held on to the memories of Gael, of Aster, and when he was young â when he wasnât cursed, or used by the gods. It seemed like a dream when he was suddenly free. No longer an incubus, but a manticore. His freedom was met with the awakening of the dryads, and now Paris has to find his way yet again in a world he does not know.
+ imaginative, reliable, courageous
- blunt, anxious, impatient
PLAYED BY LAUREN. PST. She/Her.
