Name: Cold stare

Physical form: Manifestation of 6ft incorporeal image hovering 3 inches off the ground.

Abilities: Necrotizing fasciitis in 3ft diameter when manifested. Moves threw physical barriers. Ghost blade ignores physical barriers, plunged into the living removes the warmth of life. Person actually dies of hypothermia with no physical wound. The air grows cold on his approach and plants wilt only when manifested. Invisible when not manifested. Can be repelled from a area, and blocked from manifesting for 24 hours. Able to see the life force of the living. The dead are invisible, he only sees what he wants to. Has the dead traits of being immune to sleep, poison, death, physical damage, disease, charm, illusion, and additional curses.

Personality: Cold.
Desires/Goals: Driven by the single goal Murdering the human race that let him die in the street. Only in the face of horror do humans find their nobler selves. I will bring them fear as they will never forget.

Back story: Once a champion of the people. This knight of justice fought on their behalf slaying all who would prey on the innocent. No matter the odds this champion would ride forth and right the wrong. Not for king, or queen, but the people. Bandits, thieves, corrupt royalty, cowardly guards, it mattered little to him. Steel was the scales of justice he used to exact forgiveness from the wrong.
After one such crusade against the corrupt band of mercenaries exacting a protection toll (some from the very flesh of the villages youth) in a farming village, this champion put the sword to these villains. Heavily out numbered and taking some cross bow fire he prevailed. Mortally wounded he asked the people for help. The village closed there doors and let him die in the street. The fear they had lived with for so long stayed even after the threat was gone. With his dying breath he cursed, not them but himself for believing that good deeds sowed the seed of fellowship. The villagers later dragged him and the mercenaries to the woods at the edge of town and left them to rot. Years later he arose, from his own death after his body was eaten by scavengers. Cursed to never know peace by his own soul, by the people he devoted his life to protect, by the gods.

Name: Sir D'Artagnan

Gender: Male

Race: Rabbitfolk/Coniglio

Physical Form:

His race Rabbitfolk also known as Coniglio in his tongue are a race of rabbit like people that are skilled warriors and to a current extend thieves,Coniglio live in a region called Terra Di Coniglio where his race lives and for the most part live a peaceful life for the most part interacting with humans and other races but mostly like to keep to themselves.

Skills/Abilities
Hand of Demio: Skilled quick strikes to the torso to his enemies.

Wind of Jouns: A quick dash to try to avoid enemy attacks.

Quickness of Yri: A skill that lets him sneak in the shadows giving him a advantage sneaking around.

Personality: Sir D'Artagnan is a proud sort of person hating being called cute or adorable by other people,He is also very stubborn doing things his own way having to be convinced strongly by others to be convinced otherwise.He has a strong personality in this he is a caring person to his friends and comrades going as far as throwing his life to try to save his friends.

Because he was shamed by his king he is a bit washed up he can be angry and bitter towards royalty and knights.

Wants/Needs: Sir D'Artgnan wants to gain revenge on the one who framed him.

Backstory: D'Artgnan was born in his homeland called Land Of Rabbits by human tongue was born into a warrior family being trained by his father on how to be a warrior,Once he was of age he was a knight for his king named Sovrano who gave him many task and quest gaining favor with the king. Unfortunately for him during one of his quest he was framed for the murder of a member of the council.He was then exiled by his king where he does mercenary jobs and is a sword for hire.

Other: His sword called Guarigione a iron sword with the runes of his people inscribed on the sides given to him by his father.

Name: Mar'Ament "The Formless One" "The Black Blood"

Physical Form: Mar, as one of his titles suggests, has no defined form, only being recognized most as like a black, blood-like fluid that can move on its own in any way it wants, taking up any shape or form that he wants or needs to.

Abilities: Is currently incapable of using magic, but can learn it. Physical combat ability is potentially unlimited, the only limiting factor how much mass he has. Is capable of learning flight, and is able to harden different parts of himself into rock-like, iron-like, or harder consistencies.

Personality: Calm, tactical, observant, and to many uncaring or indifferent. To others, should they earn it, a good ally to have.

Wants/Needs: Doesn't exactly have any, though he has a thirst to learn and recover the history that was lost to him. Both of which he feels capable of doing himself. Does have a passive want of getting stronger, however.

Relationships: None for now.

Backstory: Mar has no memories from before he 'woke up'. So instead, I'll talk about when he was released. He was sealed inside an urn in some ruins right on the border of the elvish and dwarven territories, and a small group of elven warriors was sent to investigate, explore, and obtain anything of their people to bring back. One of them, a female elf, entered the chamber in which his urn resided. A couple of the other elves followed and they each went about searching the many bookshelves and few chest in the room. The female, unfortunately for her, touched the urn and it cracked from age. Right as that happened, the doors slammed shut, likely due to ancient magic, and a black blood from inside the urn shattered it as he lunged at the elf.

One swing of the sword went right through it and did nothing, one swing was all she could do before it clung to her chest. She didn't feel it, but multiple small cut were made on her skin, then she felt the pain of the fluid entering her body through those cuts and her mouth and nose. Needless to say, he passed out and Mar took control, slaying the other elves in the room that tried to help her before he entered another dormant, restful state. The elf would wake up later, in a cage being drawn into the mountains by dwarves, feeling something inside her body and at the back of her mind.

Other: Nothing at the moment.

Name: Elouviana
Physical Form:


A beautiful Lampad with long crimson hair, and glowing red eyes. Usually wears a dress that, if one looks closely, mimics the nature of a fire.

Abilities: Elou is always seen with a sword-hilt, through which she projects a beam of supeheated fire, creating a pure white sword-shaped flame. She is highly proficent in the use of this sword, but can also uterlise moderate pyrokinesis if she needs to.
Personality: Elou is a friendly Lampad, slightly pyromanical, but that simply adds to the fun. She does not judge people, nor does she put forward her own believes on many subjects, simply obeying the one she is told to obey, and trying to have some fun with the rest of the Horde as well.
Wants/Needs: Elou has no real wants or needs, simply appearing in the wake of a great dragon and offering aid to the Dungeon Keeper.
Relationships: She knows nobody present, but her nature allows her to get along with everyone, even people that don't want to get along with her.
Backstory: A topic that Elou is very silent about. Anytime she is asked, she simply winks in a coy fashion, and carries on whatever she was doing. She does like to drop teasing hints about how it will all be made clear soon, but other than that, keeps herself a secret.
Other: Staring in her eyes too long will cause the starer to feel abnormally warm, and if they continute, eventually believe they have spontaniously combusted, so she has developed a habit of closing her eyes when she speaks to people.

Name: Lorelai
Physical Form:


Abilities:
Magical Expulsion: Lorelai possesses immense reserves of magical energy, to the point she could have made an excellent sorcerer if she had actually known any spells or had an interest in such. Rather, she has formed an instinctual grasp on it and releases it in an explosive, but inefficient, burst of energy to strengthen her blows or repel ones made upon her. Frequent use of this on her body has lead to her muscles adapting and bulking up considerably from the exertion. Can also be used to launch projectiles such as arrows or stones from her hands at terminal velocity. Note, objects boosted from the Magical Expulsion tend to break quickly, and Lorelai has yet to find a weapon that lasts more than a handful of bursts. Her own body and that or Durgan, however, have long since past those limitations.

Fabricated Knighthood: Despite her lack of formal training, Lorelai has become proficient in fighting with swords, spears, and even battle standards through her own experience. Can operate just as well in heavy armor as without, and excels in mounted combat. Carries a common sword in one hand while wielding a spear in the other.

Natural Charisma: While not the sort to command armies, Lorelai has a knack for inspiring others to action even in the face of overwhelming odds. Leading from the front, she charges into the maws of the enemy knowing that hell will be following at her back.

Durgan, Lord of Beasts: Steadfast mount, loyal companion, and protective guardian of Lorelai, Durgan is one of the few behemoth's left alive in the face of the human inquisition upon monsters. Unparalleled in pure strength by other beasts that walk the land. His roar brings terror to the hearts of man and inspires all that thrive in the dark to rise in rebellion of the 'Peace' wrought by mankind. Keeps a quiver of replacement swords and spears on his side for when Lorelai eventually shatters her own.


Personality: A human with distorted perception of the world, viewing herself as a monster opposed to mankind. Takes to acting what she perceives a knight of monsters would act, righteous and stalwart in her personal crusade upon mankind. This leaves her rather blinded to the darker nature of monsters, who she sees as capable of doing no wrong for they are the standard of moral rightness. Among those she find 'innocent' or 'good', she is warm and conciliatory, always trying to be of help to her 'fellow kind'.

Wants / Needs: To place herself in the service of the most righteous force in the land and drive out the humans oppressing all things dark. If she is needed, she is content. Though she would like to have a spear or sword that can withstand her magical expulsion.

Relationships: Will fill in as she meets people.

Backstory: An outcast of human society with a perspective distorted by delusions of possessing an inhuman nature, Lorelai was a disturbed being. Unwelcome for her differences, she lived in the dark and subsisted off the dregs of man's opulence. Despite her bitterness with man in general, she aspired to be better than what she was. Like Don Quixote, she held dreams of chivalry and honor as a means to rationalize her place in the world, striking out at the true monsters.

An opportunity arose to do just that when she came upon Durgan, wounded and cornered by a hunting party that sought to slay the proud beast. Her intervention, pitiful as it was at the time without a blade or scrap of armor save for peasant rags, was sufficient to give Durgan the opportunity to wipe out the remnants of the hunting party. It was the beginning of a peculiar partnership.

To sum up the course of that partnership, Lorelai found she could actually battle her 'windmills' with Durgan at her side. She grew in skill and power under his protection, while his pride and renown flourished with every battle they won. Lorelai came before the downtrodden creatures of darkness in the world and was accepted, in large part due to the large behemoth and later on for her reputation as an enemy of man.

The Abyssal Knight and the Lord of Beasts have now come to Dungeon Master to put forth sword and claw to topple the world of 'Peace'.

Other: Is searching for a weapon that can withstand her Magical Expulsion.

NAME
Fell Obereon

PHYSICAL FORM
Vaguely humanoid in shape, Fell is comprised of a patchwork of bits and pieces. The mass of his body is largely made up of separate chunks of wood, stone, bone, and crystal inscribed each with a different rune or sigil indicating some demonic presence. His right arm is made of what appears to be solid gold, moving in impossibly organic ways. Stretching from his back are a pair of silken wings, framed in stone. In place of real feet, Fell sports a pair of iron spikes protruding from his legs, on which he seems always able to balance. Resting on his left shoulder is a blackened skull, which seems to constantly drip ash from the eye sockets. Through gaps in his mismatched body, one can see the harsh yellow glow of Fell's heart. The only visible part of Fell that remains human are his eyes -gentle hazel irises can be seen staring out from behind his iron mask.


ABILITIES
Fell relies on the abilities granted to him from the many of sacrifices he has made in the past to demons, devils, and the like. These numerous sacrifices have left him with many boons which he uses to great effect.


WANTS AND NEEDS
Fell has one primary driving force behind his actions -power. Throughout his life, Fell has fought and won thousands of battles. But for each victory, he faces dozens of losses on a personal level. Because of this constant cycle of loss with which he is cursed, Fell seeks out any way to empower himself in the hopes of someday becoming a decisive victor and winning back that which he has lost. Along with this, he has a strong sense of vengeance, and goes after those who wrong him with a fiery passion

RELATIONSHIPS
He is widely known among demons, and generally respected for his dedication and perseverance -as well as the fact that he always keeps his word. Nonetheless, many are wary of him, due to his uncanny knack for killing them. He has very few relationships with others, as those around him tend not to last long.

BACKSTORY
Fell has a history of sacrifice to the infernal, almost written in his blood. Coming from a long line of diabolists, the name of Obereon had incurred many debts. As such, the birth of Fell was no act of love, nor happy accident. Fell was planned as a sacrifice to a more insistent demon hunting the family. Instead of accept the sacrifice, the demon was disgusted by the Obereon family's attempt to go back on their word, and slaughtered them -leaving the child alive. Hearing of the incident, the church thought it only just that they take in the child -not only to save it from obvious starvation, but to also set it on the righteous path.
Growing up in the church, Fell had his past hidden from him for his own protection. However, demons tend not to stay hidden for long. In the many months leading to Fell's 10th birthday, he was haunted by recurring nightmares, of a goat-like figure, standing over him and laughing. It was on the morn of his 10th birthday that this nightmare became reality -as Fell awoke, he saw the entire community of his church on the floor, surrounded in pulpy gore -but not before he smelled them. The irony scent of blood mingled with a distinct odor of rot to paint a disgusting image in the boy's head, something he would never forget. In the orgy of blood, Fell saw the figure again, a deep throaty laugh filling the room.
It was here that Fell made his first deal with a demon. He lost very little in exchange for the return of his 'father', an elderly priest who had shown the boy nothing but unadulterated love. In exchange for a simple favor that the demon would later cash, Fell's 'father' was returned to him.
Eight years of recovery followed. When it seemed that the two would finally be able to return to their normal lives, Fell heard the dreaded laugh once more. The demon returned, demanding it's debt repaid. Taught to honor his word, Fell fell to his knee and swore he would do anything to please the demon. This elicited only more laughter. When Fell looked up to the demon, he saw it was gone -in its place, a violent blade was impaled in the ground. In the reflection of the blade, he saw only his 'father', no matter what angle he looked. When Fell realized what it was the Demon wanted, he screamed, kicked, and swore, refusing. The only response he received was a flashback of the original gore, and the realization that the demon could do far worse.
So it was, that Fell parted a second time with his father. Over the course of years, he sought out every possible way to bring his father back, and exact revenge upon the demon who had torn apart his life. Endless searching through tomes and libraries lead him to only one solution -one he loathed.
And so it was, twelve years after the death of his father at his own hands, that Fell now stood over the body of the demon who wrought this destruction upon him, his father at one shoulder, a figure robed entirely in red at the other. Fell turned to the demon clothed in bloody crimson to ask the price. Before he could open his mouth to speak, he was faced with a nauseating sensation that sunk deep down, permeating his bones, and a scent of ozone. The demon was gone, and with it, his left hand.
And so begun an endless cycle for Fell. A violent loss, followed by a victory that inevitably cost more than he gained.