This man garbs himself in robes of raven black to suit his personality - or lack thereof. A hood is almost always drawn over his face, all but hiding his lean features, which are illuminated only by the unearthly bronze/crimson glow which is harbored in the sunken sockets of his eyes. The only other ornaments this man wears is a brass beaded necklace, metallic oddities hanging from it, and a simple black belt, holding his robes against his thin body with a large, intricate buckle. His body, fortunately, has been shaped slightly by his soul-stealing, taking on several attributes of each victim - He no longer requires a walking staff to accompany him wherever he goes. He walks with more assurance, no longer stumbling and his lean figure is now slightly more filled in with muscle. Dispite these changes, his skin remains a paste-like, deathly pallour, and his voice is still marred, enabling him to speak only in a rasping, pythonlike whisper, which will nevertheless be heard with ease across a noisy room by seeming to pierce the air around. The hellish glow of his eyes will seem to penetrate darkness even more efficiently than light, and the man almost exhudes an aura of corruption. Chaos. Evil…
(( http://www.epilogue.net/cgi/database/art/view.pl?id=23777 ))
Tarquin. A pale, weak child who had an insatiable curiousity for magic and what it could do. He chose not to specialise in one specific art of magic, realising that having access to more spells could give some most curious alterations to some spells. When young, he enrolled in a school of arts, quickly becoming even more adept than the teachers. Anger and impatience quickly rose at the slow pace his tutors taught him, and as a result, he began delving into his own studying, reading through books of arcane magic and experimenting upon himself. One experimentation led to the creation of his eyes - pupil-less and glowing a hellish crimson. The eyes allowed vision through darkness, and even created a link between his vision and the different planes of reality. Because of this, though, he could now see the ‘souls’ of people, and in seeing this, he saw the potential they could have…
Half a year later, he had managed to create a completely new spell. A concoction of the many arts of magic which enabled him to wrench the souls - or at least part of the souls - from the very biengs that they were attatched to. The leeched soul then consequently melds itself into Tarquins, thus adapting the raw power and potential that that soul contained, and hence giving Tarquin a substantial boost. Tarquin soon devoured the essense of his teachers, fellow students and peers, and then set of, far deadlier and with cruel intent. Finally, the aspiring evil mage used his own magic to burn away all emotions - love, hate, envy, humour - until he was left with no distractions, nothing to push him from his path of knowledge. Any emotions he seems to show are completely feigned. Coupled with his own immense skill, plus the abilities of those consumed, he is a formidible foe, or, should some obscure quirk of fate call for it, a most powerful, yet untrustworthy, ally.
Spells include anything from evocation to divination to necromancy. But Most spells are altered due to Tarquins experimentations. He will focus more on the ‘evil’ spells, and even spells which arent considered evil he will have altered slightly to be fractionally more cruel. For example, He could cure most types of wounds, but the healing process will cause intense pain. Perhaps more pain than the wound originally caused. And an open gash will still leave a scar.
A secluded mage garbed only in black, an obvious aura of corruption exuding from him. His emotions seem to be absent, and evil is more than a desire to him. Its a necessity.