Storm Demons:
Cunning and prideful these demons command powerful storm magic which they use to rain lightning and other natural weathers down on their prey. Without a host these demons appear as thin grey masses of smoke, though this smoke is capable of assuming the shape of any host they have inhabited in the past Storm Demons do not like to remain in this form. They enter a host through their victims breath and once in the lungs take control of the soul. They are capable of possessing corpses or living creatures of all shapes and sizes but being extremely vain they prefer flawless living humans as hosts. To this effect they will often employ a number of rituals to ensure that their vessels do not scar when injured. Unlike other possession demons who will corrupt the original personality of the host or invade the body without the hosts knowledge these demons take direct control over those they possess. The hosts too weak to contain them burst into flames.

Ghouls:
Spirit demons that must possess the corpses of the dead to live in the mortal world. The dead they possess continue to decay as they use them and as such Ghouls must ingest human flesh which can repair the deteriorating body. Because of this ghouls usually look fairly dead as their flesh rots from their bones. These demons are insanely strong as the flesh they eat builds their muscles though often because of this very same effect they are quite skinny in other areas with bones showing through the flesh. Overtime they stop even bearing a resemblance to a mortal except for their humanoid appearance. Their bodies become dense and are difficult to damage.

Wild One:
These demons exist in forested, unpopulated areas. They seek out large mammals, including humans, who have lost their way, and possess them as they eat. The Wild One’s host gains physical strength and stamina, despite an emaciated form; its face, whether man or beast, grows a ghastly bone-like mask, as well as any number of antlers. The host also dines exclusively on meat, ever more aggressively and voraciously. If killed, a Wild One remains trapped in its host’s dead body, and with an insidious and foul magic keeps it fresh and unnaturally appetizing should any mammal happen its way.

Revenant:
Type 1 demons that possess the corpses of recently-dead humans. Unlike ghouls, revenants ‘revive’ their host bodies and sustain them in a lifelike state, though it is not difficult to tell when looking at one that something’s off. As a tradeoff for this indefinite revival process, the revenant is governed by an echo of the host's mind, though single-mindedly driven toward revenge. Revenants are more attracted to the bodies of those with tragic deaths, and after reanimating, tirelessly pursue those judged responsible to claim their own lives. The longer a revenant’s mission goes unfulfilled, the more warped the corpse becomes, until finally the revenant starts choosing targets indiscriminately. Should a revenant kill its target, the host body disintegrates and the revenant spirit is set free. Revenants are looked down on and often killed by other demons who regard their being influenced by their hosts as a weakness.

Gremlins:
Also called Imps or Ankle Biters these are the lowest class of demon. These creatures are both small and unintelligent. They have no particular special skills but they are carnivorous. They eat human meat. Though not altogether strong these creatures appear in large numbers to take down a healthy human. Often they will hide in tall grass or in natural terrain looking for an opportunity to strike. Their biggest advantage lies in numbers and stealth, otherwise they are easily dispatched.

Kyodai-na:
Better known as Kyos, these six-foot-tall brutes wield great strength and a hunger for destruction. They prefer to level homes, towns, and all that humans hold dear rather than attack humans themselves. Though mighty and hearty, they are by no means quick, and easy prey for an adept demon slayer.

Looter Demon:
Deprived of sentience, these demons are slaves to two basic desires: eat to live, and live to take. They lust after anything of value, collecting it and carrying it on themselves. Not much stronger than the average adult, they can attack with sudden viciousness but lack stamina. Working in small groups, Looter Demons attempt to gang up on potential foes, unwittingly covering for one another’s weaknesses by preventing an enemy from taking advantage of them.

Dracomaid:
Fearsome beasts also known as Dragon Girls or Redscales, Dracomaids are wild beasts despite looking in part like human women. Unlike other tauroid demons, the Dracomaids’ forelegs are arms in their own right, capable of grabbing, ripping, and even climbing. Therefore, in addition to brutish strength, nasty claws, a lashing tail, and highly durable scales, these demons also sport remarkable mobility. In terms of size, Dracomaids’ human halves are about as large as an ordinary womens’, if not a little larger. Typically encountered wielding various all-metal polearms with which to defend their vulnerable upper halves, Dracomaids are not to be underestimated. They prefer warm climates.

Khnum Demon:
Of the tauroid demons, Khnum Demons are the least mobile but the most durable. While their goatlike legs can carry them only forward and backward, with degrees of turning based on current speed, their armor and even their monstrous horns can deflect weapon attacks, while their absurdly oversized weapons become deadly given their terrifying strength and martial poise. Less mindlessly destructive and vicious than many other physical demons, Khnum Demons serve as the knights of their kind, fighting with a skill in addition to raw power that makes them perhaps among the most deadly. Befitting their elevated status, they can speak, though all but the choicest words are reserved from the despicable humans.

Cu Sith:
Cu Siths are vicious abominations outdoing elephants in height if not weight, and with the raw, obliterating power to level entire cities if not checked. Wielding giant axes, armored limbs like clubs, and spiked, whiplike tails, they are among the most lethal of physical demons if not fought with caution and keen, quick intellect. Their thunderous, shrieking roars have earned the species the title ‘Ruin Caller’, among other, more curse-intensive nicknames. Drawn to bloodshed and hatred, they can swat down armies, but they are not without weaknesses. These tyrants of the demon world, judging by their dislike of sunlight and susceptibility to blindness, have weak eyes, though any mortal would be hard-pressed to utilize such a fault against such a mountain of demonic might.

Bloody Maiden:
Demons that manifest as entities of living blood and rough, gray flesh. In a manner similar to a bloodborne pathogen, the spirit form of the Bloody Maiden relies on blood contamination to spread from destroyed body to infected host, but can in fact be shared between two human hosts if the hosts remain in close proximity. After an incubation period, during which the victim’s blood beats slowly hotter and faster, the host’s body bursts in a shower of viscera that reassembles itself into the form of a seven-foot-tall, abhorrent woman, regardless of the host’s original gender. During their immaturity, Bloody Maidens are less cautious and easier to find, and their hemomancy is underdeveloped. With frightening speed, however, the Bloody Maiden grows to maturity, ending up between eight and nine feet tall, sporting complex and layered ‘dresses’, and boasting deadly, destructive hemomancy along with the ability to shift into a mimicry of its original form. A Bloody Maiden’s hemomancy only spreads the demon’s consciousness if its body is destroyed.

Nightgaunt:
Known to legends as Blackhearts, The Evil Within, and Stalkers. Though more common than other type 4s, Nightgaunts provide an exception to the usual process that characterizes their dreadful kind. Existing as spirits in the form of noxious miasma, Nightgaunts enter a host that inhales the poisonous smog. Once inside a host, the process begins. The demon begins to form, full-size, inside the host’s body, becoming a dark shell around their skeletal system that slowly expands until the host is merely a human shell surrounding a demonic interior. Depending on the rate of growth, the Nightgaunt’s wings, tail, and horns may sprout through the shell and give away the infestation, leading those afflicted to seek spots of darkness and solitude. When the time comes, the human shell throws itself to its death, and from the lifeless corpse the demon within arises. Once killed, a Nightgaunt gradually reverts to a mobile miasma if its body is not disposed of. Fast, stealthy, and exhibiting lethal claws, Nightgaunts are deadly ambush predators, though what they do with their kills may never be known.

Finned Bloat
Bloats are a particularly formidable yet brutish variety of Type 4 demons. As spirits, they haunt dwellings they choose of their own accord, and frighten away trespassers, leading some to believe them to be benevolent. After a time, however, they select a woman among the dwelling’s inhabitants and possess her in her sleep, most often a wife or lover laying with her partner to disguise what comes next. Over the next few weeks, the woman becomes more and more obviously pregnant, as well as eating easily three times as much as normal. If there isn’t a steady supply of food available in any way, the woman in question will be possessed of a manic strength and resort to cannibalism of anyone she can find. Once the woman becomes so engorged that she can no longer move, the Finned Bloat emerges. Powerful and moronic creatures, the Bloats quickly swell to maturity themselves, thereafter deeming the dwelling in which it emerged its ‘home’ and protecting it at all costs. If killed after reaching full maturity, the de-powered flees many miles away, taking potential years to regenerate before it can seek another dwelling.

"The First"
The original demon, one so old that it predates the written word. Most hellspawn consider it their god who will one day return to the earth and purge it of mortal scum and tainted demons so that the pure blooded creatures of hell may take it back into their hands.

Abbadon:
One of the seven knights of the down under. Not much is known about this demon, it appears in ancient folklore and legend as a terrifying beast capable of swallowing whole towns in its jaws. In ancient myth Abbadon was the trusted right hand of "The First". Trusted with the keys to the Gates of the Abyss. The first time they were opened Abbadon was left to guard them, letting through only the demons that were considered worthy by the First. Because of this myth some say to this day it is bound to the Citadel of Veiron still guarding the Abyssal Gates against any fool who was dare to approach.

Name: Nianxi Serilya
Age: 28
Race: Human
Mark of the demon: Red eyes with black lining, and a few other black spots
Profession: Void Knight
Appearance:
Bio: A girl born to the noble house of Serilya, Nianxi's live wasn't intended to be eventful. Since only the firstborn son could inherit The Crimson Blade, or even to go to battle, Nianxi was doomed to female things, like arranged marriage, taking care of her children, etc. She received exceptional education, and her teachers saw great potential in her. She was very charismatic and charming, enthralling everyone with her presence - a perfect delegate and a diplomat. Though she was happy to rise above being just a wife and a child bearer, Nianxi craved for adrenaline and excitement. She often wandered off on her own, or practiced her fencing with her brothers, much to the disdain of her parents. Quite quickly she gained her reputation both as a charismatic diplomat and a good duelist, further reinforcing her role as THE representative of House Serilya. Even a ceremonial armor was custom made for her, which she was to wear to her brother's wedding.

And then the demons attacked. Her family was butchered, her armor covered in demonic flame. Nianxi retrieved Serilya, the Crimson Blade from her brothers corpse, wowing to avenge her family. One of the six namesake weapons of the Great Houses, the sword was superior to every other sword known. What happened to the other 5 during the city's fall is not known, though their enchantments are known to only permit the respective bloodlines to wield it. Nianxi's soul was also damaged, twisting her magic.

And now she seeks to cleanse her beloved city of demonic taint, avenge her family and revive the House Serilya. To do so, she joined various mercenary bands, which had people Nianxi was not used to seeing. Even then, working together with savages and barbarians was the only way to avenge her family...

Equipment:



Other:

Name: Seth of Valeria.
Age: 36.
Race: Human.
Mark of the demon: The skin on his right arm is black, like it s covered in soot.
Profession: Traveling swordsman/Mercenary.
Appearance:


Bio: The house of Valeria was once strong and influential. We were noblemen, rich, beautiful, powerful. Then the demons came. First they laid siege to the Capital of Veiron, ending all communications with the outside world. We endured the fear.
They climbed the walls, killed the soldiers. We fought with them.
They ran through the streets, slaying civilians with their claws and fangs and horns. We defended the weak.
The killed the king. We fell into despair.

I remember it like it happened just yesterday, even though I was only a boy. 16 years old, not yet a man. I was engaged to a beautiful woman, Elena. We were in love and was to be married later that year, when the leaves turned red. But the demons broke the walls and stormed the city. My father was among the first who fell, my brother came next. My master drew his sword and rushed head first into the advancing horde. His every strike, stap and sweep felled an Orc or a demon, to him it did not matter. His blade kept moving even if it had to cut several of the beasts in one swing. A truly magnificent sight. But i had no time to enjoy his swordsmanship this day. He had attacked so furiously for only one reason, to buy me some time to get Elena out through the secret passage.
But they found it first.

As I gently lowered my beloved down into the hidden tunnel that would take her to the edge of the city, to safety, she was pulled down into the darkness. I heard her scream echo in the darkness. With my father’s sword, the blade of Valeria, in my hand I went in after her. The tunnel was big, dark and empty, so I ran. I knew the maze by heart and ran for the exit as fast as I could. Suddenly I heard steps up ahead and the whimper of my beloved. I held my sword high and yelled “Let her go free, fiends! Face me!”
Then they came at me. I couldn’t say how many they were, I just started to cut them down. Like my master had shown me, I kept the blade in motion, I let it cut through the enemy without hesitation and spilled the blood of many fiends that day.

When the Orcs and imps were slain I looked around for my beloved. I found her dying further along the tunnel. The beasts had put a blade through her chest. We were alone, i could hear the chaos above, people running, screaming, trying to get away, but we were truly alone.

I tore a piece of her dress and tried to stop the bleeding. I sincerely believed that if i could just keep the blood inside her we’d find someone who knew what to do outside the tunnel.

The bleeding wouldn’t stop. I tried everything, but the blood just kept coming. After a while she reached up, touched my cheek and whispered. “My savior.” Then she was gone.

I carried her lifeless body out and away, didn’t stop until we came to the closest village, Buant. They helped me bury her under a tree, She’d always loved trees.

There was nothing more to do. I went back to Veiron a few days later, but the city was in ruins. Bodies everywhere, even those of the Stormbringers. What could I do? I was a nobleman, I had no skills that would earn me money to stay alive. I had my sword and my hatred of the demons, I became a mercenary, taking every mission I could that involved slaying orcs or aiding those in need. I’ve paired up with some of the nastiest people imaginable to reach my goal. The death of every single demon. The goal of our king.

Long live the king!

Equipment: His clothes, some money, a longsword and a dagger. He wears no armor except for his gauntlets which are made of full plate and quite capable of stopping a sword.

Other: Even though he was born a noble Seth has long ago been forced to give up any dreams about himself. He sees himself as no better than anyone else.

Name: Rinic Arderas
Age: 25
Race: Human
Mark of the demon: His eyes are solid black, he often wears glasses to conceal that.
Profession: Arcane Battle Mage/Mercenary.
Appearance: (Never to be Seen)

Bio: Born of a warrior father, and an arcanely gifted mother Rinic possessed what seemed a bit of both worlds: skill in both martial training and arcane magic. However, he was incapable of casting the healing spells of other practical spells outside of battle like his mother, nor was he successful with anything other than a sword or dagger. None the less he was considered to be immensely gifted in the ways of both practices.He lead the troops, which he recruited himself with the help of his Machiavellian sword's abilities (a gift from his mother and father on his 18th birthday), to each battle at the front, and returned victorious each time.

The pride of his life, however, was not his skill. But his wife Maria. They married at the age of 19 and 18 living a happy life together for the time being. However, the collapse of the kingdom took his wife driving him mad with anger and sorrow. He set off creating a band of mercenaries either skilled in martial combat or arcane magic. As a last vow to his wife he took an oath to provide aid to those in need, for a low enough price so that poor towns could afford...

Equipment:

• Machiavellian blade: A one and a half hand sword giving it's wielder the power to persuade others with less effort than usual.
• Mage Mail: A shirt made of enchanted chain mail to be as light as a simple shirt.
• Diamond brigade gauntlet: A high density pair of gauntlets with very slight regenerative powers.
• Dagger
• Money
• Spell components.

Other: Rinic is quick to anger, arrogant, but honorable and trustworthy.

Name: Urisk Deilano
Gender: Male
Age: 23
Race: Human
Mark of the demon: His teeth are pointed but interlock normally, and his canine teeth are long enough to poke out over his bottom lips with his mouth closed.
Profession: Witch
Appearance: Failed Image

Bio: Born to a family of practicing witches, he had an innate talent for the art of witchcraft. His family was a coven of benign witches who helped the citizens of the village they lived in, healing them of disease and blessing them with good luck if they asked, charging only a small fee to be able to live on. When the purging of witches happened around the country, the villagers attempted to defend them from The Inquisitors when they arrived, explaining how they had done nothing but help them. The Inquisitors refused to listen, and went after his family anyway. Knowing that they were going to be taken away and killed with no means of escape seeing as they didn't know any magic to defend themselves with, they sent him to Veiron to live with his aunt at age 2.

He lived in Veiron with his aunt, secretly practicing witchcraft, unbeknownst to even his aunt. He slowly grew in skill, having to learn on his own seeing as any and all witchcraft tomes found were destroyed, seeing as witchcraft was still seen as the magic of the devil himself. Unlike mages, who were allowed to practice their magic in the open, witches were continually repressed. Many people saw it as a mage's magic was natural, but a witch's magic was often believed to come from a deal with the devil or a demon, or from dark and evil forces. Around the time he turned 23, the demons attacked Veiron, killing his aunt and everybody else he knew. Afterward he swore vengeance on the demon that killed his aunt, and vowed to find and destroy it.

Magic: General witchcraft including the following:

• Doll Magic: A type of witchcraft in which dolls are used as effigies to represent a person or animal. The dolls are stuffed with various magical ingredients to achieve a desired effect on the target of the doll.
• Circle Magic: Also known as magic Rites, these are rituals performed by a single witch or a coven of witches. These are usually more powerful than most spells, but are more difficult to cast and take time and effort to prepare.
• Brewing: A well known skill of witches, brewing magical potions to different effects. Some are drunk, some are applied topically, and others are put into easily broken bottles to be thrown at targets to splash in an area.
• Dream Weaving: Magic that allows the caster to manipulate the dreams of others, allowing them to have contact over long distances or for other purposes.
• Infusion: A special type of Circle Magic that imbues an aspect of the world into a person, object, or animal, granting them powers related to the aspect.
• Hexing: Another of a witch's most iconic types of magic, a spell that creates negative effects on a target, sometimes even fatal or highly debilitating.
• Spellcasting: A talent only seen in some witches, the ability to cast certain spells like a mage. Unlike a mage however, it doesn't take the magical energy from their own reserves, but from reagents and the magical energy found in nature.

Strengths: Can cast powerful magic both in and out of combat, can protect himself in most situations just with magic. Able to provide the group with food by enthralling animals to kill.

Weaknesses: Cannot practice magic in public for fear of execution, has no skill whatsoever with melee weapons, magic takes time and materials to prepare, some of which are very hard to acquire, most magic isn't very helpful in direct combat, wears no armor.

Equipment:

• Staff
• 3 small dolls for effigies
• 2 herb pouches (currently with belladonna and ground mandrake root)
• 1 circle talisman
• 2 taglock kits
• 1 white arcane chalk
• 1 golden arcane chalk
• Small bottle of holy water
• 1 Athame.

Other: Gay, very insecure about some issues, easily embarrassed, warms up to people quickly. He is often afraid of people finding out he's a witch as well.

Name: Mahtan Fëfalas
Age: 134
Race: Northern Elf
Mark of the demon: Both of Mahtan's eyes are tainted with black veins instead of red, the same goes for his iris; black.
Profession: Assassin
Appearance:

Bio: Mahtan was born into the Northern Elves' family. He was supposed to ascend to the throne of the forgotten race, but that changed when he witnessed his first murder. Another elf, Faelin, had been skinning tigers for food when a masked stranger came from behind in the dead of the night and cut Faelin's throat. Mahton hadn't known Faelin personally,but something inside him changed when he witnessed this event. This happened in Mahton's first 100 years. During these years he grew up with the rest of his Clan and Family, doing hard manual labor and singing their buildings into shape. It was a gift that the Elves had, they could bend nature to their will with but a simple song. However, it could never be used for bad, as the user would be immediately exiled to the Human lands. This is where the second half of Mahton's life comes in. He had found the murderer, and had encased him in a tomb of ice for all to see in front of the Ice Palace. A mixture of stone, steel, and ice, it was quite a beautiful sight. Everyone knew why the young Prince had done it, but the time that had been put into such a beautifful death had frightened them. Underneath the supervision of his parents, Mahton attended a rehabilitation course, which was enturing south of the Mountains to the Human Lands to live out a sentence of 3 years. It wasn't an exile, but Mahton knew that he would never be welcomed back. He faked his death by removing the head and limbs of another Exiled Elf, and placing his own royal pendant upon the man's dead body. He knew that the Northern Scouts were at least a day's ride behind him, and knew they would find his body. At this point, Mahton had become quite the skilled fighter, as his death happened near a year after he was sentenced to a Human life. Taking down the Exiled was not hard, and the man was carrying almost everything Mahton would need for his journey to continue. Mahton already carried his Royal Longsword, forged by the Master Smith at the palace, but he also aquired a bow and War Axe, which appeared to be Dwarven made. The Bow however was made by an Elf, it looked sung into shape, along with some sort of thin yet extremely tough vine used at the string. That was odd, seeing as how the Elves usually used horse hair. This gave Mahton the idea that he should finally descend all the way down the mountains and into the Human World, instead of living like some scum on the Mountains.

* * * * *

It had been 10 years since Mahton left his home, faked his death, and started on his journey to become an Assassin. Business was good, and life was slowly getting better. Unfortunately, during one of his contracts in Veiron, Hell itselff descended onto the city and laid waste to it. Mahton was barely able to escape with his life, and sustained temporary blindness due to a n Ancient Demon that appeared in the Capitol, an enormous bright light surrounding it's form. Mahton managed to dart through the main gate, without any blood on his hands. This was difficult as both Demons and Humans alike were attempting to slaughter him. It appeared the Humans had gone into a frenzy and were blaming anyone that they saw fit to blame, making them no more ciivlized than the Demons. Mahton wondered if it had anything to do with the Demonic presence in the city. Outside the walls was not much better, as many Humans and Elevs alike were busy hauling dead beloveds here and there, attempting to bring their love back to life. To his right, Mahton saw what looked like a nobleman, running towards the woodline with a woman in his arms, to his left, men and women alike were being thrown into a mass grave.This began his new journey, he once again had to evolve into a new being. What he would become he didn't know. Little did he realize, his change had already started. As he was making his way to the nearest town, travelers and refugees along the road kept giving him weird looks, which he brushed off easily. It wasn't until a small child pointed directly at his jogging form and said one word; "Demon! Mommy, there's a Demon!"

The child's Mother swung around and lifted a logging axe above her head, ready to bring it down upon Mahton's head. The Elf was barely able to dodge in time as the metal embedded itself into the dirt near his right ankle, causing him to stumble a bit. His legs propelled him into overdrive as he darted into the nearest set of woods and continued on his journey from there, with the faint cries of "DEMON! MONSTER!" echoing behind him. Why would they say such things? It's true they had never seen his race of Elf, but was that a reason to call him a Demon? Mahton kept this on his mind as he journeyed forth, not knowing what laid before him. The only thing he had planned was to find out what was wrong with him, and to stay away from the Humans for as long as possible as their reaction to him seemed hostile. 'This is what it feels like to be truly exiled' he thought to himself 'this is what the world shall always be like.'

Equipment:

• (1) Bone Bow
• (20) Bone tipped, Swan feather arrows
• (1) Elven-made longsword
• (1) Dwarven-made War Axe
• (2) Thigh Pouches, containing:
  
  (2) Flasks of Elvish Wine
  (3) Bandages
  (1) Poisoned Dagger
  (1) Small Sack, filled with 20 Blood Vials [Belonging to his Victims]
  (2) Poison Vials
• (1) Backpack, containing:
  
  (1) Week's worth supplies
  (1) Arrow Crafting Kit, with extra bone fragments and swan feathers included.
  (1) Quill, ink well, and 4 pieces of parchment
  (1) Firestarter kit
  (1) Bed Roll
• (1) Elven Cold Weather Cloak
• (1) Set of Elven Ranger armor
• (1) Bandit mask

Other: Mahtan doesn't prefer the company of either males or females. His many years on this cruel earth has taught him only one thing; Kill. He wears a mask of emotion that hides his true self, which only comes out in battle. He enjoys wine, the sound of swords clanging, and the screams of Demons and Orcs as they lay slain beneath human or elven warriors. Not that he has slain any himself. Among these things, he especially loves Tavern minstrels. They always comfort him while he's preparing for a kill, singing about the lands before the Demons and how prosperous they were, filled with joy. Mahtan doesn't remember these days, as he was born in The North, among the ice-hut dwelling Elves.

Name: Susanna Grace
Age: 23
Race: Human
Mark of the demon: When she becomes angry or scared her eyes shift to a dark black, quite often this is when Lilith’s power surfaces. The back of her neck bears the demonic rune meaning "First One" in the form of a branding. This is the symbol of a terrible demon that hasn't set foot on the earth in ten thousand years. Many hellspawn consider it a god.
Profession: Bounty Hunter/Wanderer
Appearance:


Bio: Susanna was happy once, but who is she kidding that was another lifetime, another girl. Her father was a foot soldier in the army many years before Susanna was born. When he was discharged for his services he was granted a small plot of land. It was by no means big but it grew enough for them to live and sometime a little more that he could sell on market day. Susanna’s mother died giving birth to her making her, her father’s only child. With no eldest male to take over his legacy Susanna’s father taught her what he would have his son. He taught her about the world, to tell right from wrong, to fight with her hands or with a quarter staff. If they had the money for a sword he might have taught her that skill as well but the only sword in there house was the one that he had brought back from the army and it hadn’t been unsheathed in several years.

One day he delivered her the most exciting news she’d heard. He had been saving money over the last several months and had decided that they would spend it on a road trip to trading city of Veiron. Susanna had never been to the city before but she had heard of it from the local town’s gossips and drunks and it sounded exciting. Two weeks they road on horse and cart to reach the city and it was everything that Susanna had imagined, gleaming towers and fountains, and luscious fruit hanging in stands. That was until a great and terrible sound split the air. No one who stood there that day could adequately explain exactly what the sound was but it filled everyone right down to the rats with dread. Then a wave of black red smoke burst from the palace tower where the king resided. The smoke rolled all the way through Veiron before it dissipated and when the mass touched Susanna she felt so much evil push past her all around. This wasn’t just smoke. It burned and battered her like a stormy wind. She dared not breath but the smoke that covered her felt like fire and in moments she fell to the ground spasming unable to move for the pain. At last she could stand it no longer and she took a breath of that evil air. The moment the smoke entered her body Susanna knew she had made a grave mistake. Something was invading her body, her mind, her soul. She started to jerk more violently than before for it wasn’t just the smoke of normal fire. This was the smoke of hell and all it contained, demons. She could feel it. Her muddled brain told her that she was lying there for centuries and many times she begged and pleaded with the thing inside her to let her die. She didn’t care if her soul was so unclean that she went below she just wanted it to end.

The essence filling up her being, teaming through her mind just laughed and she felt herself wishing that her father hadn’t taught her to be so strong. So many other people she could just see through the smoke had burst into flames but not her, they were the lucky ones. After what felt like eons the pain finally cleared. Susanna stood up but it was not her that had ordered that command. “Hello dearie,” said a voice emanating deep inside her being but coming from her mouth. Susanna realized with horror that her body was no longer her own. This demon owned her now.

“I’m surprised you survived, so many humans burst into flames. It’s really irritating.” Who are you? Susanna tried to say but her voice became lost somewhere in her throat. The question appeared to have reached the demon’s ears though because it answered with a laugh. “Me, I’m Susanna Grace and I’m sure no one will have a dispute with that when I’m cutting their throats. You however, you’re clearly too strong to be banished to the furthest corners of this mind so you might as well have something to scream when the guilt collapses on you. Call me Lilith.” She said still laughing. Her laugh was unlike anything that Susanna had ever heard, unlike anything that had ever come out of her mouth.

“Lilith…” Came a gasping voice from not far away. Susanna and Lilith turned as one to face it. Partially buried under some debris was Susanna’s father. Susanna gasped inside her cage but she could do nothing to stop what happened next and worse still she knew it. Lilith walked slowly over to Susanna’s father. His face was broke and his eyes were red. Is he… Susanna asked Lilith the silent question. However horrible Lilith might be at least she was honest. “No he’s not possessed merely a mark from having a hundred demon’s swarming you. It’s a pity to waste a strong vessel but I guess he was too old for any of the others.”

Lilith walked slowly towards Susanna’s father and placed her boot on the old man’s throat. “You can fight her dear, you have too. There’s no telling what she will do if she gets loose.” Susanna’s father choked and coughed the words out struggling against the boot on his throat, the boot he’d crafted himself. Susanna pushed as hard as she could against Lilith’s grip but to no effect. There was a snapping sound as the boot pushed down and Susanna’s father lay still. NO! Susanna screamed but even this did not reach her mouth. “Keep it down girl, can’t you see I’m trying to enjoy myself.” Lilith said with that evil smile on her face.

Lilith and Susanna walked away from Veiron, the land of scorched earth that day. Over the next six years Lilith performed unspeakable acts with Susanna’s body, murder and torture and seduction and destruction and through it all nothing Susanna did could stop Lilith, not when she slit the innkeepers throat and made a cocktail with his blood, not when she cut the limbs one by one off a group of triplet children not even when Lilith hacked apart a convent and all the sister’s in it. Lilith had a thing for showing up the clergy. That was what finally led her to her incarceration and Susanna’s freedom.

There was a monastery outside a large village and the villager’s spoke of it in awe. After butchering three or four of them Lilith walked to the monastery to kill everything inside in the most painful ways possible. Lilith knocked on the door and a spy hole opened. “State your business.” said the monk simply. Lilith who was still covered in blood from the town’s folk used Susanna’s voice, the voice that Susanna had used when the cart had fallen on her, the voice of terror.

“Please sir the village was attacked by bandits. I barely got out alive, they need your help.” Lilith said shakily in her most convincing matter. The monk closed the spy hole and opened the door. Lilith walked in shakily. Susanna knew that she was waiting to get all or most of them together before she struck. The monk took her to a central chamber.
“I will return with the council. Wait here.”

Lilith stood in the center of the chamber laughing to herself. It wasn’t long till all twelve monks came into the chamber and sat down in chairs around Lilith.
“What is it you need girl?” asked the eldest of the monks.

“You’re head on a pike would be a good start.” said Lilith dropping the scared farm girl routine. Lilith waved her hand expecting one of the wall brackets to come loose and impale the eldest monk but nothing happened. “We thought as much.” said the old monk tiredly. “No villager in her right mind would come here for help. They would rather be killed by bandits. Now look above you.”

Lilith looked up and was shocked and frightened to see a circle with a pentagram inside. On closer inspection the white lines were made up of tiny ruins. “A ruin trap?” said Lilith real fear filling her voice for the first time. The fear woke Susanna who though awake for the whole six years had sunk back into a state of apathy to deal with all she had watched her hands do. Susanna watched excitedly not saying a word. “How long do you think till I figure a way out of this, and you know I will.” Lilith said it with gusto but she was scared.

“Most likely a couple of hours but you don’t have that long. Monks prepare the circle of obliteration.”

You finally bit off more than you could chew Lilith. This is where you pay for everything you forced me to do. This is my revenge.

“Shut up you insignificant fly, I have more things to worry about than a silly girl still thinking she can make a difference.”

The monks around the circle froze and all turned to look at the eldest for instructions. “The vessel lives.” He said simply. He nodded at his brothers and they changed their tactic, moving into a different formation and aiming their magicks at the ruin trap rather than at Susanna and Lilith. A light shot from each of their hands and converged over the ruins. It filled the room with a golden light that caused Lilith to scream. For the first time in a long while Susanna found herself present, not just an onlooker. “Thank you, thank you. I can never repay you for this.” Susanna’s voice burst forth and for once in the last six years it was truly her own. “This is not permanent child. What is your name?” said the eldest monk.

“Susanna,” she said barely able to breath for the tears trailing down her face. “Does this mean that she’ll come back?” “Yes,” said the monk slowly “once you leave this light she will return.” “Please, please,” Susanna begged. “Cast her out, I can’t go through that again.” “She had been there far to long, the act of untangling her from your soul would be very painful and most likely kill you and set her free. None of us want that least of all you.”

Susanna looked at him the hope draining from her eyes. “Then kill me. Destroy us both like you were going to. Better one girl dies than a hundred villages.”
“There is another option Susanna. We could swap your roles. We could bury her in your soul and give you control leaving her with perhaps slightly more control than you had in the same position.”

“Do it.” Susanna said without hesitation.

“Susanna, this is not something done lightly she could make your life a living hell. You may come to curse us before your life ends.”

“She’s already led me through hell and back. She murdered my father with my hands and countless other people. So do it, push her down. Give me my life back.”

The eldest monk looked at her sorrowfully “As you wish my lady.” He and the other monks lowered their beams of light till they converged on Susanna and Lilith. The scream that escaped their lips was a mixture of Lilith’s hideousness and Susanna’s pain. This hurt them both but when the light cleared Susanna could move her arms again.

Over the next four years Susanna wandered, never staying in one place for too long, scared of the harm she might do to people. Lilith’s power was still inside her and so was the demon, tempting her like the dark side of a conscious. It worked sometimes. Susanna strangled a man who owed her money and slit the throat of a thief who tried to rob her. Lilith was like an impulse that Susanna struggled to control. She never stayed anywhere too populated for fear of Lilith’s tempting words and her powers.

Equipment: Dresses simply and carries a quarter staff that she uses as a walking stick most of the time. Many years later she retrived her father's sword which still lay with his corpse as even bandits did not want to disturb the dead of Verion.

Other: Lilith and Susanna's souls are so intertwined that she could possibly pass as a demon to other demons if she played the part right.

Name: Cylus
Age: 52
Race: Human
Mark of the demon: the palm of his right hand is blackened.
Profession: Sword Instructor
Appearance: This is what he looked like when he was at Verion. Now his hair is greying and his skin is aged.

Bio: Cylus' early life is not all clear to him, he knows he was born in the east. Not long after he was born his village was raided by marauders. During the attack his immediate family was murdered. He was not unlucky to be found and adopted by a traveler who went by the name Vilgor. Vilgor was from the west and was regarded for his skill with a blade, he had aided the village in running off the marauders before discovering a child of just a few years in age among the rubble of a demolished home. Vilgor adopted the child and named him Cylus but gave him no surname for in the east tittles take the place of surnames.

By the time Cylus had reached twelve years in age Vilgor had told all of this to him. After hearing what had happened to his family and most of his village Cylus resolved to learn all he could in order to defend what he cared most about. He requested an apprenticeship from Vilgor, who by that time was a swordmaster, to which Vilgor accepted.

Cylus spared with Vilgor for five scattered hours a day for the next ten years of his life. At which time he left his home and moved to the west where he joined the military. His military life was droll, he taught swordsmanship to new recruits and took bow lessons from another instructor. He had only been in a few skirmishes this all changed when news of what was happening at Verion reached (the city in which the military is based, I realize that I don't know which one it is?).

Cylus never lived in Verion. He wasn't there visiting either. He was a soldier twenty years ere, a ranger. He was skilled with a bow, but it wasn't his weapon of choice. He followed the way of the sword, not for lust of battle or a greed for power but rather a means to protect the things he cared most about. This eventually lead him to join the military, his skill with a blade was recognized and he was tasked with instructing soldiers in swordsmanship. He had seen little battle until the twenty year Verion conflict. Cylus was sent, along with other soldiers, to aid Verion in their battle with the demon and orc hordes.

In twenty years of battle many soldiers had gone mad with hell-spawn tormenting them in their nightmares if they were fortunate enough to sleep. Cylus had managed to keep his mind but acquired many scars to prove his involvement.

The last day of the battle was both relieving and terrifying, the battle had waged for hours that day, the rhythm of battle was all too familiar to him; parry, lunge, sidestep, roll, swipe... The war had no hope from the beginning twenty years ere. But on that day, the final day, what little hope the warriors had had been burned. The King was slain and moral broken, the commanders ordered a retreat, but that didn't mean the battle was over.

Cylus had been near the front lines of men defending Verion when the order was given. The horde did not relent but surged forward to purge the city. Sword drawn Cylus fought his way to escape. A sword is an extension of myself, not a tool, not a weapon, but me! Thoughts raced through his head while he fled as they had throughout the entirety of the battle. The high ground has the advantage. Use my surroundings to my advantage. Duck, parry lift, drag, lunge, back-step.

An officer was knocked off of his horse. Cylus swiftly mounted the beast and rode away from the battle. He didn't stop until the horse could no longer ride. He later found that the palm of his right had was burned.

Equipment:
Clothes
- Cotton shirt and pants
- Leather bound sandals
- Dark grey cloak
- Steel armor that remains in his home on a stand, unused in years
Weaponry
- Straight Sword
- Long bow with quiver of arrows on his belt
Misc
- Small medicine pouch on belt

Other: Currently Cylus resides in Astoria teaching swordsmanship to those he deems worthy. Most of his equipment is for travel.

1.Serilya, the Crimson Blade - a sword made of what appears to be some kind of crimson crystal. The sword drains blood from the wounds it inflicts, absorbing and storing it somewhere inside. That blood is used to active the special powers the sword can unleash, the most basic being healing. If it has no blood within it's reserves, it will draw it from it's wielder. Powers unleashed with own blood are dramatically bolstered in power, as well as increasing the "bond" with the sword. However, careless use of own blood can lead to a quick and stupid death. It is said that the original owner of Serilya was able to unleash, what was called, a Blood Storm.

2.Sigaros, the Shimmering Bow - A bow made of what seems like glimmering steel, it launches arrows with unprecedented precision. With a bit of bonding, one can summon arrows of pure light to fire. It's power is just that, various tricks including searing light and arrows. It said the great hero wielding this bow shot a single arrow into the sky, only for thousand bolts of light to land.

3.Grax, the Obsidion Greathammer - A rather mundane looking Greathammer, it has no bloodline lock on it, as it requires massive strength to pick it up, let alone to use it as a weapon. With it's brute power, it can and was used a siege weapon, shattering walls with ease. It's dominion is over earth (shocking, I know). It is said that the great hero who first wielded this weapon was able to send an earth-shattering shockwave towards the approaching undead army, scattering them and burying them within the ravaged ground.

4.Erina, the Fiery Scythe - a staff which can become a scythe, with a "tail" at it's back that can be used as a whip. Extremely versatile and unpredictable weapon, it has dominion over fire, death and disease. The scythe the most complex of all the relic weapons, requiring both a lot of practice to master it and learn all it's tricks and powers, and lot's of "bonding". Though it may lack the sheer power of the other relic weapons, one can adapt to nearly any situation with it. The grand wizard who first wielded this weapon was known for his ability to create a tornado of flame, which reanimated all it slain as his servants.

5.Malus, the Azure Spear - an extremely light spear which is capable of extending at the will of it's wielder, without gaining any weight in the process. It contains powers of wind and thunder, allowing the wielder move at extremely high speeds, delivering lightning-fast strikes, literally. It is said that the original owner of Malus was able to strike about a hundred opponents in a blink of an eye, at the same time.

6.Renele, the Glacial Shield - At first glance, it looks just like a random formation of ice, extremely brittle. It is, however, extremely durable, as well as able to absorb the kinetic energy of the blows it stops, allowing the wielder to block attacks from creatures far bigger or stronger. The spikes are extremely sharp, and are the weapon part of this shield. It can also be thrown with ease as well, making into a deadly projectile weapon, which can be recalled at any time, provided the wielder has bonded with it enough. The shield has dominion over cold and water, and the great hero using it was able to protect his friends from harm by raising massive pillars of impenetrable ice around his friends to protect them from harm.

Name: Alicia de Cassaris

Age: 36

Gender: Female

Race: Human

Mark of the demon: A scar across the chest, as if her heart was ripped out. Also, her hair turned from raven black to blood red.

Profession: Royal Guard (At least before the fall)

Appearance: Alicia cares little for appearances. While she at least attempts to at least maintain her hair hair, unless, of course, she is using a helmet. When she isn't wearing her armor, she wears very plain, peasant-like clothes.

However, her armor is that of the Royal Guard, easily recognized by anyone from the kingdom. That automatically tells everyone she is one of Veiron's survivors. Whatever that means good or ill depends on the situation.

Personality: The heart she had beating within her chest was ripped out that day. She was there at the ground zero, where all hell broke loose, at the very center of the calamity. The madness of it all, people she cared for dying and the world - unraveling, left a scar upon her psyche as well. The Royal Guard, The King and even her family - it was for them that she dedicated her life, and all of that was destroyed in an instant.

Dead inside would be the best two words to describe her. The emptiness within her was quickly replaced by wrath, a blinding, maddening wrath. Some would describe her suicidal, when anything involving demons is concerned. Alicia herself considers herself a walking corpse, a corpse burning with a singular passion - revenge.

Before the Fall she was a joyful, optimistic and rather energetic person. Never the one to be in sour mood, she was always there to lighten the mood, no matter what. Of course, life never really was hard for her, aside from her training.

While Alicia still sometimes manages to lighten up, she is still a shell of her former self. Employing a rather morbid sense of humor to cope with her situation, she finds socializing hard with people who don't share her ideals - destroying demons at any cost.

Bio: Born on a noble family, from the onset she was very different from her sisters. Where her sisters preferred lady-like games and played with various dresses, Alicia was more interested in what her brothers were doing, which usually involved wooden swords and shields. While at first her parents tried to dissuade her, thinking it's just a phase, it never passed. Year by year, she kept practicing sword fighting, keeping up well with her brothers even. Eventually her family gave in, and allowed her to join the same lessons her brothers were undertaking - combat, warfare and chivalry. Unfortunately, this meant she was almost impossible to be used a bride for any important marriage, and Alicia just being there pretending to be a boy would sully her family's reputation. Fortunately, the King's Royal Guard were not at all selective about the gender. While for a noble family, sending a son to be a Royal Guard would damage their prestige, sending a DAUGHTER would make a pretty prestigious statement.

For Alicia, this was a dream come true. She did not want to be just a tool for a strategic marriage. She wanted to be something. And being a Royal Guard was just that something. The Royal Guard training regimen was tough, and that was her favorite part. It didn't matter whether you were a man or a woman, it was up to you to accomplish the set goals. Out of many that aspired to be Royal Guards, few succeeded in completing the training. Alicia was one of them. It was the happiest day of her life, even more so because her own family came to celebrate her new status.

However, these were times of peace, and the Royal Guard, the elite warriors of the King, had little to do. During this time, however, Alicia grew a great appreciation for the King, even though some of the things he ordered them to do were odd. They were instructed to search for any information about demons and learn about them, and applying said knowledge to their fighting style. For all Alicia knew, demons were just a fairy-tale to scare misbehaving children, but she dared not to question the King's command. And aside from taking care of highwaymen and other misbehaving rabble, the Royal Guard had little else to do anyway.

And then the fateful day came. Everyone in the Royal Guard knew something was amiss. The King was visibly shaken, terrified. Some kind of malicious presence was in the air even. Most odd was his urgent command to evacuate the capital and form the Stormbringers. Thinking their King ill, the Royal Guard did not flee immediately. Instead they tried to understand the ramblings of their King. And a few hours after that, all hell broke lose. The finals words of their king, just as the demons started descending upon the capital, was to "RUN". And so they did, hearing the screams of their King, of everyone in the keep echoing throughout, as they ran. Alicia doesn't know if any other Royal Guards succeeded in escaping. Her whole world was violently torn away from her, it felt like her own heart was ripped out. She even got a nasty scar across her chest to match the sensation, as her hair turned blood red, something not ever seen in this land.

She did, however, meet an acquaintance who shared a fate much like her own - Charles Agoure de Berthain. He too, was a descendant of a noble family, and one her younger sisters fawned over. Sharing the same goals, though Charles not sharing her rather suicidal approach, they set out to find others who identified themselves as Stormbringers, or find the recruits themselves.

Equipment: Royal Guards possessed high quality weapons and armor, and this is what she bears to this day. She has an oil-fueled lantern, as well as a backpack for various provisions.

Age: 24
Gender: Male
Race: Human
Mark of the demon: Charles has emphasized fangs which are easy to notice when he speaks.
Profession: Squire, Monster Hunter
Personality: Charles is bitter. Ten years ago, when the demons invaded, so much was taken from him and since then a hot red fury has festered within him. He hates demons, with passion a human can have only for his lover or nemesis. Killing demons, exterminating them, that is Charles raison d'etre and in these ten years he has forgotten the core tenants of the kingdom’s knights: protect the weak. There’s little thought for the weak in Charles’ mind. He hunts demons for the family he lost, for the lands which were his birthright, for the kingdom in which he was the scion of one of the greatest noble houses, for the life of comfort and luxury which was violently transformed into one of never-ending wandering and struggle.

Charles does not believe that he will ever get back what he lost, and that is perhaps the darkest aspect of his anger. It is devoid of hope. He sees no life past his war with demons, no light at the end of this dark tunnel. He has already come to terms with the fact that he will most likely die fighting demons, like his master did before him. But that’s alright, for Charles. If it is his destiny to be killed by those vermin, he’ll struggle to take as many of them to the grave with him. He’ll fight so hard and kill so many, that when he’s finally gone demons will look behind their shoulders, fearing that even dead Charles may come in pursuit at any moment.

From outsider’s perspective Charles is a young man of few words. This is not because he is inherently gloomy or asocial, but because Charles dislikes speaking much ever since he acquired his demon markings. He is ashamed of the demonic taint he carries and hates showing it to strangers. Even among fellow Stormbringers, who also carry markings of demons, Charles feels slight discomfort with his inhumanely long and sharp fangs being seen.

Bio: Charles was raised in a huge family estate, looked after by dozens of servants who dared not to disobey any of his wishes, and surrounded by luxury rivalled only by that of the king. As the firstborn of the Duke de Berthain, one of the most powerful men in the kingdom, his life was pretty much planned out for him from the beginning. He was to be taught from a young age about the matters of war, politics, art, history, literature, then, when he was older, he was to be taught combat. When he reached his teens Charles was to become squire and, upon becoming an adult, he was to be made a full knight and marry a daughter of lineage equally as noble as his.

For the first fourteen years things went as the Duke de Berthain desired, but the day after Charles became a squire, when he was supposed to leave on a questing journey with his master Sir Bernard Marath, fate put an end to all plans of the old Duke and every mortal in the city of Veiron. With the fall of the King and the demonic invasion, city was quickly destroyed and everyone in it slaughtered. Charles himself, lost to shock and horror upon seeing the hordes from hell and the destruction they spread, would have lost his life if it weren’t for the bravery of his new master. Sir Bernard sacrificed his life to protect his new squire and ensure Charles’ escape to safety outside of Veiron.

Upon burring Sir Bernard, Charles was left without anyone and anything. With only his mount, armour, weapons and a week worth of provisions, he left on his questing journey. Soon after his departure he met Alicia de Cassaris, a woman he knew by reputation if not personally. She was a kind of woman that was used as an example of how a lady ought not to behave to his sisters. Finding that Alicia shares the same disdain for demons as he does, the two teamed up and set out on their crusade against demons together.

Equipment: Full plate armour, lance, shield, sword.

Notes: Mount which Charles rides is a beast called Galheat, a creature which resembles a horse-sized ram. It has the same strength, speed and stamina as a horse, but it also has horns which it can use in battle. Galheats are highly intelligent animals and can live for a very long time. Sournas, the particular Galheat in Charles’ possession, was a present from his father upon becoming a squire and has been loyal friend and companion to the young man in these past ten years.

Age: 24
Gender: Female
Race: Human/Possessed
Mark of the demon: A brand on the back of her neck in the form of a demonic rune that translate as "First One". This is the symbol of an ancient demon.
Profession: Bounty Hunter/Wanderer
Appearance: Though her lithe frame doesn’t look it Susanna is actually quite strong. She stands at 5'8" and only one hundred and twenty pounds. Her skin is fair and she has dirty blonde hair that she traditionally keeps tied back out of her face. Most of time it covers the mark on her neck but if she is fighting or moving swiftly the brand will become apparent.

Arcana Demonic Abilities:
Though she possesses no magic herself the demon harbored within Susanna's soul commands powerful storm magic. These demonic abilities include mastery over many forms of weather such as rain, wind, snow and hail as well as lightning summoned down from the clouds. Like all hell spawn Lilith possesses the skill to summon demonic hell fire though she has always preferred her storm magic stating that it has a natural elegance which hell fire lacks." When Lilith was in control of Susanna's body these abilities were at their peak. She had such skill with them that she could even use her control over the wind into a rudimentary form of telekinesis. Susanna however struggles to control these abilities. With the human soul in command she works harder to contain the powers of the demon than she does utilize them. It is as if she has a powerful storm within her billowing and battering every second, fighting to break free. In those occasions that she does use this power it is often more than she is able to adequately control and as such is highly unpredictable.

Personality: Susanna has an almost inexhaustible will to fight for what she believes to be right. She was taught by her father from a young age that nothing in life was free. If there was something you wanted for yourself or your family you had to carve it out for yourself and make sure no one ever took it from you. She has a good nature within her that she has to keep a hold of in order to balance out the evil lurking within. She fights for what she believes in and tries to keep those she cares about safe, even if that means making hard sacrifices such as leaving them. Underneath her undying pluck Susanna harbors a deep seated fear that she will lose control of Lilith or her powers and hurt someone, an innocent or even someone closer to her. Because of this she keeps everyone at arm’s length with a cold disposition, especially those she cares about. When Susanna uses Lilith's demonic abilities her eyes become stained an inky black which proclaims her to be a demon to anyone watching.

Bio: Compared to many Susanna's early life was good, she was comfortable. Her father Richard was a former member of the King's Royal Guard. He retired from the military when he married Susanna's mother Marie and for his service was granted a plot of land by the King. The plot was not large but Richard worked hard on it and the land turned out enough food to feed the two members of the household and some extra to be traded at market for other necessities. Marie died giving birth to Susanna, this saddened Richard more than the Susanna could understand till she was much older and more scarred. Despite his wife's death he was a good father. He never raised his voice to her and always listened. Though when she'd done something wrong Susanna often wished he would yell, it would be better than the disappointment that permeated his face.

As Susanna was his only child Richard possessed no male heir to pass on his skills or knowledge too. With regard to this Richard raised Susanna as he would a son. He taught her about the world, history, mathematics and literacy. He taught her other things too, the value of a hard day’s work, the wisdom to know right from wrong and as any father would a son how to behave in combat. Richard taught Susanna how to fight both unarmed and with a staff. She received no lessons in swordplay as the only sword in the house was the one that Richard had worn at his side when he had been a member of the Royal Guard. It hung on a wall and hadn't been unsheathed in years.

When Susanna was fourteen years old her father announced a surprise. They were going on a trip to the trading city of Veiron two days journey from where they lived. The King was apparently calling any former military member for a meeting at the citadel. Richard was not sure what the meeting was about but as a faithful member of the King’s land he was honor bound to obey. That however didn’t mean that it couldn’t be fun. Veiron was a large city with a great deal of foot traffic, people and wares from all over the land would be there. Richard fastened his old military sword to his back as a way to prove his identity to the King’s guards before they set off in their old horse and cart in the direction of Veiron.

Susanna enjoyed the trip. For a girl that spent most of her life in a three room house and the towns nearby Veiron was like another world. People from every walk of life, elfs, dwarfs, humans from the south and the north. It was amazing… that was until it all collapsed.

Susanna was in the main square asking her father if he could buy her a sugary treat from one of the vendors when a sound split the air. No one who was present in the city that day could adequately describe the noise that echoed through the streets. As it pasted there was a moment of calm as everyone fell silent, struck by some primal horror. That was when all hell broke loose.

Several blocks over every window of the great citadel blew out and red smoke with lightning dancing within it like a storm cloud spilled out into the streets sweeping past everyone and everything. Some found cover from it in the buildings but Susanna and her father were not so lucky.

Instinctively Susanna took a breath of clean air as the smoke came towards her. When the cloud touched her skin Susanna felt as though she’d been lite on fire. She fell to the ground convulsing, her body spasming on the cobblestone. Some part of her knew that she couldn’t take a breath, if she did she would die. As the acrid substance swept over her Susanna felt as though he skin was melting. She could feel her neck burn with unholy fire and a part of her wished she could simply die. Susanna could feel the evil in the air all around her but her body cried out for oxygen and after what felt like an eternity Susanna took a breath of the vile air.

As she did so Susanna felt something invade her body, every particle of her being consumed in fire. She could hear voices all around her. "Pretty little one." "Too young for me." "I could take her for a spin." "We could grow into her." "I want stronger flesh." Until louder voice, a woman's Susanna thought silenced them all. "She’s mine." the moment these words were spoken Susanna felt the burning crushing smoke leave her body as the air all over Veiron cleared.

Susanna sighed but somehow the breath wouldn’t leave her lungs. "Oh no dear, our fun together is only just beginning." The words came from Susanna’s mouth but the poor girl never spoke them.

"Who are you?" she tried to speak but the words stopped somewhere in her throat. She had no control over her body. Evidentially though the demon that had invaded her soul through the smoke could still hear her.

An uncharacteristic smile spread over Susanna’s features. "Ooh goodie." She said like a child receiving a present. "I really picked a live one."

"Who are you and what do you want with me?" Susanna asked the demon silently.

The demon cocked Susanna’s head to the side. "Hmm, with you... not much, I’d be perfectly happy if you were to die but I need your body alive and well to serve as my own. As for my name... it has been awhile since I needed one in the realm of mortals... perhaps Lilith. Yes Lilith will serve quite nicely."

"Lilith...?" said a shocked voice from the ground nearby. The demon turned Susanna’s body towards the sound. It was Susanna’s father Richard lying on the ground. His hair had been bleached white and one of his eyes glowed purple.

"He’s not...?" Susanna asked the unfinished question.

"Like us?" Lilith finished. "No, he’s been tainted with our markings, nothing more. It is a shame to let such a strong vessel go to waste but I suppose the others did not want such an old vessel." Lilith put a boot on Richard’s throat.

"You can fight it Susan." Richard gasped. "Never stop fighting." He managed to say before a crack sound echoed around the town square as Richard’s neck snapped.

Lilith looked around. Other bodies were beginning to get up from the ground. Some survivors, most possessed. Then a crash rent through the air coming from the citadel. "Ah, the others have arrived." She said listening to the sound of buildings being torn down like it was music. The smoke forms had escaped the nether realm first, the corporeal demons were now forcing their way through.

"Let’s not miss out on the fun." Lilith laughed. She raised her hands to the sky and storm clouds formed in the air. The wind picked up to whistling speeds and lightning struck building and stone lighting home and stall on fire. Lilith laughed into the night as the rain and destruction poured down on the kingdom’s once great city.

When the carnage at Veiron was exhausted Lilith left the city searching for more interesting locations. She was a demon in every sense of the word. She destroyed what she could and obliterated everything in her path. Often times it even seemed she was intent on causing Susanna emotional anguish through her acts.

Susanna and Lilith may have carried on like that for an eternity. Lilith just another machine of destruction doing what she pleased with no consequences. Destroying anything in her path. However something changed that transforming the pair from what they were into something extraordinary.

Lilith like many demons was threatened by others with power, particularly magical power. Most mages were either hidden or on the run but the brave, mostly monks banded together in their monasteries. Most demons got a thrill out of ousting a place of holiness. Lilith was no different. One day she chose the wrong target. The monastery she attacked was heavily fortified and all the monks masters of their craft. They chased the demon girl into the woods nearby where she was captured by a rune trap, a field of magical energy imbued in symbols carved onto the ground that was capable of ensnaring demonic energies.

The monks confident in their victory brought forth one of their members, one that kept himself hidden from the populous because he was a practitioner of Witchcraft in the form of exorcism. He arranged the materials necessary to expel Lilith from Susanna's body.

In the back of her mind though Susanna's heart sank for she knew something that the exorcist did not. Lilith was a devious and old demon who unlike some of her incorporeal brothers and sisters had learned defenses against common demon repellent magicks. Lilith had carved a rune of her own into Susanna's flesh. On the small of her back, done with a small knife, creating a clean scar sunk into the flesh. It was a binding rune. Demon magic meant to prevent exactly what the monks were attempting.

When he began to chant Susanna and Lilith felt a pull in there gut, an insistent tear at Lilith's smoke form demanding that she descend bellow. The rune on Susanna's flesh held the demon firmly in place as the pull increased in intensity. Pain built in Susanna's abdomine. Susanna screamed inside her prison of flesh but Lilith kept her face calm and collected despite the pain that became ever more intense every second. Just when Susanna though the monk was going to give up Lilith collapsed to the ground. Susanna could still feel the demon within her but for a very short time in the last seven years the demon's consciousness was dormant. Susanna reached out a hand towards the monk, finally free of her prison but she was unprepared for living with the demon's power inside her. She couldn't contain it.

Wind swept forth in all directions from where Susanna knelt. Storm clouds formed overhead and the wind started to spin and swirl around the girl who couldn't control it. A funnel formed around Susanna, the wind whipping faster and faster, pulling all the monks in with the force of the wind. Lightning struck the ground all around her obliterating some of the runes in the trap that held her. Despite her freedom from the monks, the trap and the demon Susanna couldn't move and she couldn't stop. It seemed all of her energies were being poured out of her into the storm she was generating.

The winds kept picking up speed, uprooting trees and rocks and dirt and sending it flying into the storm. Finally with the wind around her raging in anger Susanna passed out. As she did so the storm around her died leaving her untouched in a field of ruin.

Susanna's salvation was that almost forty nine hours later she was the first of them to wake. When she opened her eyes every muscle in her body screamed its soreness. Her tongue felt dry as sandpaper and her stomach rumbled for food. She felt half dead and a part of her wanted to lie back down and simply let the end come. One thing stopped her. She was moving on her own. Lilith was not in command. Susanna could still feel the demon inside her though and knowing it would awaken soon she looked around desperately for something to save herself with.

The bodies of monks littered the area, trees had been torn up and debris covered the area. Surrounding Susanna however a number of the markings from the rune trap remained intact. Not enough to trap her but enough for Susanna to recognize. Looking at them Susanna recognized a number of them from Lilith's previous raids on other monasteries. Seeing two runes she believed them to read in holy script "Protect" and "Freedom" Suffering from exhaustion and dehydration Susanna's mind came up with an idea to rid herself of Lilith once and for all. She pull a dagger from her belt and carved the runes into her forearm.

Susanna accidentally accessed Lilith's magic pouring demonic power into the holy runes. The two powers clashed violently and the marks burned themselves into Susanna's flesh sealing her wounds. Though the holy words acted on her the demon magic caused them to take on the worst and most destructive connotation they possibly could. Rather that throwing Lilith from Susanna's body the runes trapped the demon, sealing her inside Susanna's soul. They granted her freedom from Lilith's influence and protection from her powers but not in the way that Susanna had desperately wanted. It was at that moment that Lilith woke, brought to the surface by the use of her own magic.

"What happened?" Lilith asked and in that moment Susanna felt something akin to a gasp inside her head. "Girl what did you do?" Susanna looked down at the runes now permanently fixed into her arm. "You foolish girl, you thought life was hell when I commanded your body. Wait till you experience what it will be like to command my powers."

That was three years previous. Now Susanna lives the life of a wanderer. Taking odd jobs when she can. Keeping her distance from people and never letting herself care about another person because when she gives into her emotions Lilith's demonic magic escapes into the world. She struggles to live her life despite the being of pure evil bound to her soul. Sometimes she doesn't think that continuing is worth it but always reminds himself that were she to die Lilith would escape her prison and continue to reign terror down on the world just as her brethren did for the last ten years.



Notes: Despite all that she's been through with the exception of the two binding runes and the brand on her neck Susanna's skin is smooth and flawless, without any scars. Her demon preferred an innocent beautiful looking host in order to more easily lure in foolish humans. To this end Lilith kept Susanna's form in perfect physical condition.

Name: Silvana Ravensblood
Age: 27
Race: Human
Gender: Female
Mark of the demon: One green eye, one silver eye (not blind), much of her left arm has has become coal like in colour, while down her back are a few, four, Daemonic Runes, the meaning of which are not know to her.
Profession: Blacksmith/Fighter
Personality: Silvana is meticulous when it comes to her craft. She will often double and triple check her work. In her personal life, she is reserved and observant, a trait further pressed to the surface given circumstances. But once she makes friends with someone, those barriers begin to drop and she will protect her friends.
Appearance: 5'9, 167 lbs. Has several scars.

Notice: I do NOT own the image above
Bio: Silvana was a Blacksmith by trade before the fall, brought to Veiron by her father when she was only twelve. She trained her trade under her father for four years becoming a proficient and successful blacksmith in her own right. But when the King formed this new army, she knew things were about to take a turn for the worse. She packed up her tools, against the protest of her father and began making preparations, basic leather armour. On the day the kingdom fell, she was closer to the epicentre than most who escaped Veiron and was exposed to the tainting, body and mind warping power from the Daemons Realm, she barely managed to escape. In the years since the fall she has slain many an Orc that decided to push their luck and attack her, though she always moves when she sees Demons nearby. She has fought one though, and injured it, but had to flee due to the injuries she sustained.
Equipment: Hammer set, Leather Armour, other smithing tools, dagger.
Notes:

Name: Alistair Down
Age: 10
Gender: Male
Race: Child of humanity
Mark of the demon: Eyes that glow yellow in darkness; giant occult mark on chest
Profession: Wandering knight
Appearance: Alastair is something of an enigma. Despite the obvious hazards of living in such a fashion, he is never seen garbed in anything less than a full suit of armor. Though of rare and wondrous quality, it is nevertheless unnerving for many who view it, for it makes Alistair seem less than human. The wing-shapes on the helm, the plume of white fur, and the metal pauldron in the shape of a beast’s skull help characterize the armor as magnificent yet ominous. Neither bulky nor arranged so to be inflexible, it permits Alistair an appreciable freedom of movement. Only his eyes are visible through the helmet, and even they, with a yellow glow suggest some kind of monstrosity within the armor suit—if anything at all.
Personality: Despite his fearsome look, Alistair has a rather childlike personality. His thoughts are typically simple and one-note; he is impressed and confused more easily than most; he is prone to displays of emotion. However, he’s decently intelligent and sports a certain dry wit and enjoys joking. As one might expect given his condition, he is very awkward socially, though at heart he’s friendly and sympathetic. This does not prevent him from hurting other should he sit fit. In terms of motivation, Alistair wants to break free from the darkness surrounding his family and play the hero, living up to the heroes of the stories, if he cannot be normal. Seeing himself as a monster, he has very little self-esteem, but at least he enjoys other people being happy, and is close to selfless.
Bio: Alistair’s story begins with his noble mother, who was not only unfortunate enough to be in Veiron at the time of the catastrophe, but also unfortunate enough to be eight months pregnant with twins. When demonic powers blasted the city, the soon-to-be mother, who in a lucky turn of circumstance was already on her way out, escaped with her life but with her own mark of the demon upon her. Afterward, its effect soon became apparent. While her initial intention had been to reunite with her husband, currently serving at a distant court, she became convinced that he had abandoned her at her darkest hour and festered with resentment. After she took refuge at the keep of a lonely duke many leagues away from Veiron, she found the old man in love with her, and did not hesitate to marry him. A few months later she bore her twins, though after that day, neither the duchess nor her children were seen by any but the castle servants. Whispers told of two children that grew unnaturally fast, for whom training in the art of combat seemed second-nature, and fearful rumors began to spread. Even the duke retired from the public eye as his health declined, further inciting the murmured suspicions. To the smallfolk it appeared as though the refugee of demon-cursed Veiron had brought the darkness with her.

Nine years after the catastrophe, the twins emerged for the first time. Looking at them, one could not imagine them to be siblings of nine, for in stature they were men of twenty, though oddly thin. No further details could be discerned, for both wore the armor of the duke’s ancestors and covered themselves completely. Seeing them off was the duchess, regal in clothes of scarlet red and black, watching from the highest parapet. Without exchanging words they left on some elusive mission, headed back to the accursed city from which their mother came, for the duchess had heard tell of an artifact of subtle but enticing power hidden within the wreckage of Veiron. Though the pair of knights seemed every inch imposing and united in purpose, one steadily lagged behind the other, for all his life Alistair had been curiously spared of the strange hatred which united his sibling and mother.

This dread pilgrimage ended with the siblings standing in the middle of the great ruin, long deprived of living demons and host now to a company of looters. They scoured the burned-out corpse of a city for their treasure, but found nothing. Fueled by angry disdain and ignited by impatience, the twin of Alistair went on a murderous rampage through the crude base of the thieves. Alistair, appalled at the demonic display, chose to betray his sibling by trapping her in a black pit. There, haunted by her shrieks of rage, he left her. Trying to convince himself that what he had done was right, Alistair abandoned the task to which his mother had assigned him and left Veiron to try and live normally. He soon found, however, that the armor with which he adorned himself would not come off. Nobody he met would allow the sinister-yellow-eyed warrior to remain with them, and in sorrow Alistair resigned himself to the role of a wandering knight, unable to return to the family he had betrayed. Fearing the wrath of his mother, prohibited by a grim affection to kill his mad sister, and ignorant of his father, Alistair searched for cause to call his own.
Equipment: Rather than a magic weapon, as some might assume, Alistair carries with him a metal wand with which to channel his internal magic. This wand he gained from a court mage at the castle who died during his youth. His soul-magic takes the form of concentrated arcane energy, practically solid, which can be teased into the shapes of different weapons using the wand as part of a handle. Favorite among these ‘soul weapons’ is a warhammer. In his right hand, Alistair wields a stylized metal shield, heavy but capable of taking a lot of punishment. In addition, Alistair carries two flasks, the second being his sibling’s. Both are alchemically enchanted, transforming whatever liquid is poured into them into a sort of blue potion that sustains the drinker’s body. Typically, he pours the potion onto his helmet, and some gets through for him to drink.
Notes: Alistair is not a demon, and neither is his sister. His mother was tainted by demonic power that eventually corrupted her, some of which was transferred to both children, but far more was concentrated in the daughter, the first-born and the very picture of her mother. Both siblings suffer from gigantism, giving them the appearance of scrawny adults, and while definitely more mature than most ten-year-olds are still mostly children at heart. His sister, Meredith, shares his demonic marks, and cannot remove her armor, either. This is because they have both grown since putting it on, and the demonic magic has helped bind it to their flesh. Because of the magic interfering with their natural processes, neither require normal human nourishment.

Age: 25

Gender: Male

Arcana: Pyromancy or fire magic. Fireballs, burning hands, even fire runes, Mezdon can perform a multitude of spells that will really bring the heat! Though most of the spells he knows are quick one-handed attacks that suit his style of combat, Mezdon is very capable of casting more devastating spells if the situation calls for it.

Race: Elf

Mark of the demon: Charred black mark on his left arm that resembles a flame. Heat radiates from it as though it really were fire. Any who touch it will feel a burn, but it won’t do any damage.

Profession: Demon/monster hunter. Adventurer.

Appearance:At around 6’ Mezdon has a thin flexable build. He wears little to no armor as he focuses on mobility when fighting. His sword lays in a sheith on his left while a satchel hangs to his right.

Personality: Mezdon has a passion for exploration and adventure. If there is a bard or storyteller anywhere near by, you can expect Mezdon to be there listening. Besides that, he usually has the calm and relaxed demeanor of any typical elf. He tries to stay a bit on the lighthearted side as most people he meets seem to have bleak outlook on life. (Though who could blame them what with the gates of hell being opened and all)

While many would cover up their demon marks, Mezdon makes no effert to hide it. He believes its a part of him that tells others what he's been through. Plus the fact heat still comes from it making anything longer than a T-shirt uncomfortable.

There are a few things that can set him off, however. For instance speaking ill of his grandfather Donden is a sure way to get a firy punch to the face. But more obvious is the mention of demons. When those hellspawns are involved Mezdon is merciless. He would fight one until either he or it were dead, though it's not necessarily due to blind rage. In fact, he fights them more to prove he isn't helpless, that he is not afraid of their kind anymore.

Bio: Born into the Hadirial family, Mezdon was blessed with the gift of natural magic as all members of the line were. Though originally of a higher social standing, the Hadirial name had been tarnished by Mezdon’s grandfather Donden. A former Royal Guardsmen, Donden had been stripped of his rank and banished after “falsely” accusing the King of conspiring with demons and even attempting to have him arrested. Ever since then the Hadirial family was treated with disrespect by the other upper class families they once considered equals. Desperate to regain their once near noble status, his parents became obsessed with appearance. They attended every party, wore the fanciest of clothes, and did everything in their power to impress the other houses. This went double for their sons as getting a family to allow their daughter to marry one would instantly redeem their status.

While his brothers didn’t mind acting posh and charming the young ladies, Mezdon hated it. He had no care for proper etiquette or climbing the social ladder. Truth be told, there was a fire burning in his soul. There was an entire world out there full of wonder and beauty. He wanted to see it. He wanted to travel beyond the city walls. See what was out there. Adventure. Of course his parents wouldn’t have that. No son of theirs was going to become some kind of common vagrant! Especially after all they had done to save the family name.

When he was 15, after years of arguing and debating the matter, Mezdon decided it was time to take action and do something. Packing his things he was finally ready to run away and leave this prison of a city behind. Little did he know, it was the last day he would ever see it.

It all happened so quickly. First a loud sound heard across the city, followed by bloodcurdling screams. Dropping his bags Mezdon ran out to find out what was going on. He should have stayed in his room. One by one Mezdon watched his family be slaughtered by a demon. In a vain attempt to defend himself, Mezdon cast a flame spell at the attacking demon. It only made the monster laugh as it sent its own hell fire at Mezdon which caught his arm. Pain and fear overcame him and Mezdon lost consciousness. The last thing he saw was the demon standing over him ready to deliver the final blow.

He awoke in a small cabin owned by none other than his grandfather Donden. With so many questions on his mind, Donden did his best to explain what had happened. After his banishment, he had been living in the forests SouthWest of Veiron until a messenger came to him. The King had rescinded his banishment and had summoned him for a private council. As he entered the city he watched first hand as the citadel was destroyed and the mass of demons poured into the streets. Realizing what had happened Donden immediately headed to the Hadirial manor to protect his family. By the time he got there, on Mezdon remained. After a fierce battle with the attacking demon, Donden successfully slew him and carried Mezdon out of the city and to his home here.

Haunted not only by the screams of his dying family, but forever reminded of his failure to even hurt a demon with his burning mark, Mezdon requested that Donden train him. Realizing he wouldn’t take no for an answer, Donden accepted and began teaching Mezdon the ways of sword and magic. With steel in one hand and spells in the other, Mezdon was a warrior ready for any battle. Never again would he coware fear or feel helpless against any enemy. He would strive to instill the same fear he felt into demons, to become a nightmare for the very beings of hell itself.

After ten years of training, Donden’s age caught up with him and his body began to fail him. Before he passed away he told Mezdon not to let his hatred of demons blind him from following his dreams. After burrying the only other Hadirial, Mezdon set off to finally explore the world and fight the evils that now plauged it.

Equipment:



Notes: Will add at some point. (maybe)

Name: Beringer Cain
Age: 27
Gender: Male
Race: Human
Mark of the demon: Flesh crystallization, beginning with his right heel. Since the destruction of Veiron, the crystallization has spread in a spider-web like fashion to the base of his knee in an obsidian-like surface, coming close to crippling the joint movement in his right leg.
Profession: Pit Fighter
Appearance:

Beringer stands at a full 6 foot, weighing around 160 pounds. His build isn’t especially strong in appearance, but rather brings about the sense of being entirely average. His lean figure gives off the impression that his state is the result of years of fighting for survival rather than through training. He is almost always shrouded in his equipment, failing to take off his mask even indoors.

Personality:
Beringer is a free spirit to which he does exactly what he wants and whatever he feels in the moment. His actions garner very little thought and the spontaneity of his choices are generally instantaneous. He is extremely perceptive as well as experienced in the workings of the world for his age, jaded end to end. However, he is anything but logical and operates for his own amusement. He lives day by day without any forethought, and although he can generally garner a steady flow of income using pit fighting arenas from town to town, he only participates when he is truly short on money. Generally, he can be considered lazy and irresponsible.

Bio:
Beringer grew up with a pack of wolves, is what he would like to say. His origins are entirely simple. He was born into a peasant family under a feudal lord. His lord, much less his family, were not anything to note. Rather, it would be hard to find anyone more lowly than such a group of farmers. Growing up, Beringer showed a surprising talent for the blade, be it farm tools or longswords, he had a great aptitude to naturally fight. At a young age, he was inducted as a page to one of the feudal knights in the small territory. He trained diligently, escaping amidst the shroud of night to practice further. It was not uncommon for his body to occasionally grow frail from over-training only to heal even stronger. At 13, he graduated to a equire as the youngest in the fiefdom, skyrocketing his pride. He gained the favor of his lord, flourishing his talent at an increasing rate and was among his lord’s personal guards. In a grand meeting between Lords of the northern lands, Beringer accompanied his lord and his escort. There, he became involved in a series of underhanded plays. By the outcome, he had defended the life of a noble daughter he had become somewhat infatuated with. The noble daughter of Veiron would not keep Beringer in her eyes, but the father bought Beringer from the feudal lord, seeing Beringer’s talent. As a sorts of low tier guard in the noble household, he remained for 2 years, at the time he turned 17, the disaster that wracked Veiron occurred. Beringer fled with the noble daughter and her family, but the object of his desire died from burns, her mind disappearing into the void of shock. The rest of her family slowly died off from numerous matters of circumstance and lack of preparation, each death driving Beringer to put forth more effort in his protection and training. He went on tirelessly, until his last companion, the noble father, passed away from a severe cough. Beringer traveled a great deal of the world from then, training every step of the way as if he were a machine. He adapted to his increasingly lamed leg, taking part in fights as a method of earning money. By the time he had risen his head from his toiling training, he had realized the fleeting feelings of hatred and regret left by the loss of the noble family had faded. With no purpose, Beringer simply wanders the world aimlessly, somewhat hopelessly as he indulges mainly in material and carnal desires. His gathered experiences of the world from endless travel has given him a great deal of knowledge, but also left him jaded and tired despite his young age.

Equipment:

Generally, Beringer carries a longsword at a length of 4 feet, although he is capable of arming himself with many different armaments, the slightly curved blade is his most familiar weapon beyond his fists. He doesn’t usually bring provisions unless his situation calls for it and for the most part, he only has the leather armor he travels in and a mask that is almost always covering his features.

Tobias Thane

AGE:
32

GENDER:
Boy

RACE:
Human

MARK OF THE DEMON:
Tiny pointy antlers (Which are rather than being a bone on the top of the head, are an extension of the skull), pointy ears, and sharp teteh. Black scribings on his back.

PROFESSION:
Thief/Assassin

APPEARANCE:
Tobias has a completely average height, around 1.87 meters. He has a strong physique, and an almost perfect shape and proportion. Tobias wighs at 76 kilos( I actually know this in Imperial. That's 152 pounds). He has a strong chin, and and strong cheek bones, that bring out his vibrant red eyes. His facial expressions is stone cold like a murderer's by default, and his black hair is totally on point with that vibe.

He sticks with his ranger clothing he inherited from his dead father. From bottom to top, it is engraved leather boots, that go knee height. He waers brown trousers, that are held by a long silver belt that wraps around his waist multiple times. Below it is a set of green clothes that are attached to the trouser. A brown leather and and fur shirt is on his chest, covered up mostly by a grenn jacket, lined with silver strings. The jacket comes with a hood, long enough to hide his identity if needed, and always good enoguh to hide the fact that he is not completely normal. There is another belt going around his chest, hold in place his small tunic/poncho he wears. His arms are covered in belts (he must really like belts) that keep in place his bracers. The set ends with a long green fingerless glove.

His whole appearance is focused around silver lining and engravings, and most of his equipment is at least silver-like. That includes a neck bandana with small silver strings spiraling in front of his mouth, with the usual glimmering linings.

PERSONALITY:
Tobias could be defined by one as a madman. By another as an extravagant gentleman. Some might say that he has some issues. Whatever you say one thing is true. He is not your usual folk. His bloodlust and madness occasionally flame up, lighting up his eyes in a ghastly fire. However if not driven by fury he can be more things than one, depending on what teh situation needs. A gentleman, a killer, a humble hobo, a wealthy trader. Long ago he lost his real personality with Veiron beign the final nail in his coffin. Only one trace of his past self remains. His loyalty. One thing he is valiant to protect is his loyalty to those he deems worthy.

BIO:
Tobias was found in the forest by a ranger from the nearby bandit hideout. Not wanting to kill a baby he took Tobias to their hideout, and the other marauders took him as their own son: teaching him in thieving and deceiving. He grew up amidst the bandits and hunters, and soon became more selfish and wild than most of them. He never really ahd one person nurse him, but nevertheless he enjoyed having multiple "dads". The gang members thought him how to write and read using stolen books. Albeit a good effort, Tobias never took a keen interest in literature. He learned the basics, but when speaking he spoke with the unique accent of the rangers. When he was 7 they started taking him out on hunting trips, and taught him what herbs are poisonous and what can be brewed into healing potions or powdered into recovering dusts. He was a natural at hunting one would say, and he showed predatory behavious. Cruel and merciless. He learnt to use bow from the rangers that mostly roamed the forest, and supplied those who went out robbing. On his last day with them, he made his bow from ebony wood, found deep within the forest. But when he was 10 he was appointed to go out thieving with the lesser members of the bandits. And he stayed with them until he was 20. During those 10 years he mastered many arts and weapons. Throwing knives and swords became his tools, and he was taught in the arts of concealment and assassination. His agile physique helped him a great deal in moving around the town and the forest.

However the last 2 years his gang's reputation exceeded itself, and they became targets. It wasn't long until the Royal Guards showed up and murdered the Green Rangers. It was a massacre. Only flashbacks remain of fire, blood and screaming. Most of them died. Not all thought. Some escaped with Tobias, but eventually they split up after a few days of hiding. Before parting ways, they sweared upon the Green Rangers loyalty thought. From that day on, they would only wear green and silver clothing, along with the same coloured sigil of the rangers. And then a harhs years came. Tobias was out on the run from officals, and spent his days either thieving or hunting and foraging in the woods. His arsenal of throwing knives and his bow soon got new members: a rare Shortsword stolen from a merchant, with a small glowing green gemstone inside it. Later he found a plant in a hidden groove which showed amazing potential. It covered the whole of the clearing and formed a small wall around it. It's fiber healed itself even after being cut, and if worn it would make the wearer less noticable, and harder to detect by magic. later he discovered it started to vibrate very faintly if it was near any sorft of magical item, such as his shortsword. It was the reason not many found the groove. However he found many magical artefacts and inscribings on the ground, and guessed that it must be a hiding place for a a wizard or an alchemist of some sort. He sewed his present coat from that material, after months of trial and error. It took the entire winter to make it, but it was worth it. With this new ability he would escape teh authority and become a professional assassin. His identity hid, he murdered many people in cold blood, every time disguised as a different person. After so many lies and acting his personality became unstable. On teh day the apocalypse hit he was in Veiron's merchant district disguised as a trader, escaping with a magical satchel he recently "acquired". The evil absorbed there shifted him, just like the others, but he managed to escape before being devoured. Not fast enoguh thought. He went mad. After years of loneliness and acting, he lost his self. Now just a twisted soul ina twisted body the only thing that keeps him going is to find and reunite the Green Rangers and make the demons pay for what they did to him. Possibly bring his sanity back.

EQUIPMENT:

• Short Sword: A small sword, conviently named "short sword" with a small green gemstone embed into the handle. if dark, the gemstones and the sword light up, illuminatig a an area in fron of him, even if it's in the holster.
• Ebony Bow: A hunting bow made of ebony wood that he made when he was in training by the rangers. It is completely black, covered in silver and grenn straps in order to provide fricion, and make it better to handle. it is not big, around the size of a short bow, but it is recurved, which makes it compact but powerful.
• Self sewed ranger clothing: No name for this one. A magical ranger suit he sewed from fiber found in a groove hidden deep inside the forest. It regenerates itself if cut or torn. It makes him less noticable as if he wasn't there, hiding his signature from magic users, whilst alerting him of those who posses arcane powers, or worse.
• Throwing daggers: He learned how to use throwing daggers and axes whilst he was in the forest. He is really accurate with them, and prefers to use them over the bow if possible, simply out of the reason that they are easier to access. He carries 6 with himself at all times.
• Travel bag: More like a satchel, this contraption is something he found in his father's lab. A handy piece of equipment that can store more items that one can look out of it. It is really just a small brown bag with a silver string to hold it together, but if opened, one will see the huge space inside it.
• Basic rations, water, gauzes, ropes, herbs of various kinds for making potions, oil for lanterns.

NOTES:
-Tobias is a very experienced fighter, and is good at duel wielding, or hand to hand combat. However his madness affects his skills. It is important to note that madness comse with loss of focus, and thus renders him less skilled and he is much more prone to not noticing the suit's signals about magic users. All in all, he is not as strong as he was before Veiron, nor can he use his equipment as well.
-Tobias is extremely disturbed with Royal Guards. In his eyes they murdered his family and all his relatives, so he fuels a hatred against them. That doubled with his madness he might do things he wouldn't normally if near a Royal Guard.
-One last word. He might be mad, but it's more like as if something controls his mind to push his emotions to the furthest limits. His original perosnality might come atop once a while, given a situation which requires absolute concetration, like near death experiences. His true skills are shown in those situations.