<div class="floatleft">(http://img.csfd.cz/files/images/film/photos/158/304/158304905_7952d4.jpg)</div><div class="floatleft"><strong>Character Name/Alias</strong>: Koschei Romanov, Peter (Alias)<br/><strong>Wearing</strong>: Cloth pants and bandages around his fists to prevent injury; wearing no shirt.<br/><strong>Location</strong>: Northern Continent, Russia<br/><strong>Current Action(s)</strong>: Training his body, Reminiscing of his past<br/><strong>Tagging</strong>: His Parents, Family</div><br/><br/><br/><br/><br/><br/><hr/><br/>Grunts and pants echoed in the basement of the Romanov Mansion, as deep below, a young man stood, fists bandaged as he threw harsh jabs and punches against a cushioned tree trunk that stood within the room. Panting and sweating, the man continued to jab and punch at the target in front of him, teeth gritted as every ounce of fury and anger radiated off him, like waves of fire ready to turn whatever touched him to ash. It wasn't until a few moments later that he finally ceased, giving heavy breaths as his blonde hair, ragged with sweat, covered most of his vision. He had been at this for hours, strengthening his toned body, training to become stronger then before. Littered with scars, the man trained regardless of the pain he felt, no longer wanting to feel helpless and weak.<br/><br/>Helpless and weak like when he was but a young boy.<br/><br/><hr/><br/><em>"This is for your own good Koschei. You must endure to make your family proud." An older man, arounds his forties, with long blonde hair combed back, continued to recite this same phrase in an even tone, even as he inflicted curses and hexes upon his only son, for hours on end, his screams echoing inside the basement of their home.<br/><br/>Koschei's fists grabbed at nothing, pulling at the chains that bound his wrists as he only continued to scream at the top of his lungs, feeling as if they were bleeding from the inside. This had been happening ever since his tenth birthday, and now at the age of fifteen, it still continued.<br/><br/>His tired blue eyes looked towards his father, pleading silently once the spells had stopped to let him go, but all he could see was the cold, dead emptiness that his father held for hm, and screamed out once more when he began again. <br/><br/>Again, and again.</em><br/><br/><hr/><br/>Koschei hadn't realized how much he had reacted to such a memory, his eyes, once burning with rage momentarily, now saw that he had thrown a fist against the marble wall next to him, the marble cracking beneath the power of his fist, pieces falling to the ground. He didn't care, his ragged breaths coming out in waves, fury still in his blood. It had been years since he had been through such a horrible fate, yet it felt as if it was only yesterday. The scars along his body still reminded him of what had happened, and knew that he could never escape it. How could he, when he still lived in this wretched place, his Family home?<br/><br/>Despising his family, killing every one of them for allowing such a tradition to continue, he hated them, loathed them with all his body and soul. He was glad that he had killed them, taking his time to torment them all he had wished like they had to him!<br/><br/>And yet he was bound to this place, unable to leave. He always could, he knew that, but it was engrained in him forever, the torture, the torment; he couldn't leave no matter how much he wanted to. It was with him like the scars across his body.<br/><br/>"Damn it all." His hushed voice echoed through the basement, pulling his now bloodied hand away as his eyes glanced over the large mark of his families crest along his forearm, before walking over near by the stairs of the room to pick up his discarded shirt he had worn before he began training. Combing his bloodied hand through his ragged hair, he made low stride up the wooden stairs.<br/><br/>The basement had stayed as it had been when he was given those horrible 'lessons'; damp, dark, cold. It had marble along the walls that had shed and fell to the ground, concrete floors that would stain easily with blood and other fluids, and an odor of death that couldn't be washed off. It was something that haunted Koschei for his entire life, yet he couldn't turn away from it, it was like a piece of him, unable to break away.<br/><br/>Just like this house, it seemed.<br/><br/>Moving up to the door of the basement, he closed the door, only to end up in the Foyer of the large home. It's appearance was much more regal and pristine then the basement was. Marble walls and columns were strung about the mansion, with expensive furniture and paintings along the walls and tables. Ornate vases were set on every table, showing just how wealthy Koschei's family was, with multiple rooms, and a staircase that led to a second floor, and even a balcony that over looked the gardens they had behind their property.<br/><br/>All of it was his, yet he wanted none of it. He wanted nothing more then to be rid of this place, and the memories that it brought him, yet he couldn't; it was bound to him like a leech to his skin, unable to break away no matter how much he wished it, willed it.<br/><br/>Taking a red apple from the kitchen, Koschei took a hasty bite out of the fruit, wanting to forget what he remembered, hastily moving towards the Foyer once more as he recalled news that had begun to spread along the Western Continent. A man, claiming to come through all walks of land, to rule all the kingdoms on every continent. It was troubling to say the least, yet as long as this man did not dare go near Koschei, he would be fine. Yet as he thought of the news, his mind began to wonder; should he join such a cause? To serve or be killed under someone that had no regard to human life?<br/><br/>"Maybe that's where I should be..." He had done so many terrible things...<br/><br/>No...he hadn't!<br/><br/>He had killed terrible vile, humans, people that tortured and abused their children to become magic users for inane purposes, to rule and to intimidate others. Yet he had killed his parents, and al of his members of his family in the process. He had even killed their servants, who watched and said nothing to help poor Koschei.<br/><br/>What was he to do, they had known and done nothing!<br/><br/>And yet he had killed, murdered others. He...he had enjoyed it, even giving grins and smiles as they screamed for mercy. He had murdered others who had come to his home in search of an easy victory and untold spoils.<br/><br/>He was nothing more then a monster.<br/><br/>The darkness that had swallowed his parents hearts had been brought down onto him, blackening it to his core. No one would ever come to know him, understand him, comfort him,<em>love</em>him; he was truly alone.