Pictured: Barkeep Humans who have died and been placed in hell. Though they have much less magical aptitude than the demons of Hell, they've got years and years of science on their side. They can be outfitted with cybernetics, guns, and even though they have a small soul, they're good spell-crafters. Many magical humans can even mix science and magic, creating Manustek weaponry and armors.
Pictured: Betty Demons are artificially created by other demons, who were, in turn, created from Mr. President himself. Originally they truly tortured humans that were brought here, but they've all gotten, at the least a bit softer. Some say it's out of boredom (one can only torture for so long) and some say it's out of too much work (Way more of humanity comes to hell then to heaven, oddly) so, while the relationship is still rocky, it's less torture and more bully. Some demons are even willing to work with humans. Though they can't get outfitted with cybernetics (they don't have nerves the way life on earth does) they can be made with stronger souls or stronger bodies than humans.
Every once and awhile (mostly with botched spells), Manus just kind of takes form when someone's soul gets destroyed. Most of the time, with botched useless spells or accidental deaths, they're just prankster spirits with an absurdly specific ability (like generating toast). Of course, sometimes a powerful soul is bound to a versatile spell. This is when True Spirits are born, forming a body and seeking out their goals with a powerful and changeable spell.
Pictured: Nefas Cambion, is the name given to those who are genetically part human and demon. Methods include Incubus and Succubus impregnating or being impregnated by humans, particular spells, or genetic experimentation. They have particularly odd appearances, being mostly human, with the exception of a few odd points but big points. They're fairly strong, possibly moreso than most demons, but have an even worse grasp on magic than humans, even if they retain their intelligence. A demon and a human conception is an "unholy union" after all.
Character Sheet
[center][h3]Name, and nicknames if applicable[/h3] [img]Character Image: Humans look human. Nuf said.[/img][/center] [b]Appearance:[/b] Should you not have an image, or want to clarify details in the image, write them here.
[b]Sex:[/b]
[b]Personality:[/b]
[b]Greatest Sin:[/b] Out of the OG 7 Sins, which is your most prevalent?
[b]Motivation:[/b] Why are you escorting Betty to allow her to open up the portal from hell? Fame? Fortune? Simply want out?
[b]Biography:[/b] Both before and after death, generally.
[b]Skills:[/b] List what they're good at, what abilities they have, etc. [hider=Spell List] Remember, humans aren't that great at magic, it's not bizarre for them to have none. [/hider]
[b]Gear:[/b] Include Cybernetics
[b]Theme Song:[/b]
[b]Other:[/b] Whatever I forgot
[center][h3]Name, and nicknames if applicable[/h3] [img]Character Image: Demons generally look like bipedal animals, with "demonic" (rot, tails, horns) traits[/img][/center] [b]Appearance:[/b] Should you not have an image, or want to clarify details in the image, write them here.
[b]Gender:[/b] Incubic (male) or Sucubic (female)?
[b]Personality:[/b]
[b]Greatest Sin:[/b] Out of the OG 7 Sins, which is your most prevalent?
[b]Motivation:[/b] Why are you escorting Betty to allow her to open up the portal from hell? Fame? Fortune? Simply want out?
[b]Biography:[/b]
[b]Skills:[/b] Include natural abilities, I.E. Breathing fire, flying, etc.
[hider=Spell List] Demons are generally either good at physical stuff or good at magic, though sometimes they can have a middle of the road approach. [/hider]
[b]Gear:[/b]
[b]Theme Song:[/b]
[b]Other:[/b] Whatever I forgot
[center][h3]Name, and nicknames if applicable[/h3] [img]Character Image: Spirits look like whatever element they're made of was molded into a body[/img][/center] [b]Appearance:[/b] Should you not have an image, or want to clarify details in the image, write them here.
[b]Memories:[/b] What you remember of the soul that imprinted on you, and how that relates to your current goals.
[b]Personality:[/b] Be sure to include current goals.
[b]Greatest Sin:[/b] Out of the OG 7 Sins, which is your most prevalent?
[b]Motivation:[/b] Why are you escorting Betty to allow her to open up the portal from hell? Fame? Fortune? Simply want out?
[b]Skills:[/b] List any skills they picked up from the soul, and any they may have grabbed while trying to accomplish their goals.
[b]Spell:[/b] What spell was it that got imprinted on? This will effect what exactly you're manipulating, so choose wisely.
[b]Gear:[/b]
[b]Theme Song:[/b]
[b]Other:[/b] Whatever I forgot
[center][h3]Name, and nicknames if applicable[/h3] [img]Character Image: Cambion look like humans... almost. They generally have one or two demonic traits, like a deformed skull or a set of horns.[/img][/center] [b]Appearance:[/b] Should you not have an image, or want to clarify details in the image, write them here.
[b]Biography:[/b] Be sure to include which type of Cambion you are, genetic, spell, or birthed.
[b]Personality:[/b]
[b]Greatest Sin:[/b] Out of the OG 7 Sins, which is your most prevalent?
[b]Motivation:[/b] Why are you escorting Betty to allow her to open up the portal from hell? Fame? Fortune? Simply want out?
[b]Skills:[/b] Be sure to include any abilities your mutation may give you.
Name: Betty Alliance: Active assistance Appearance: See picture Power Level: Weakling Description: Betty is the epitome of the complex human archetype "drunken party girl." She never takes things seriously, drinks like it's nothing, and is honestly in way over her head. This woman holds the key to disrupting two realms of reality. You may as well quit now. Gear
Chainsaw - A small chainsaw that she can use to gut people, though she isn't actually very good at it.
Abilities: She has about 0 actual skills, other than being able to drink people under the table. Her tail is fairly sharp but she has no idea how to wield it effectively in a fight, and that chainsaw, as dangerous asa it is, leaves her wide open. The only reason to keep her around is she possesses the magic to open portals.
Name: Weaver Alliance: Active assistance Appearance: She wears fairly long flowing clothes. A trenchcoat, a scarf, and a skirt hide her overly scarred and, frankly a bit decrepit, body. Power Level: Mook Description: A quiet, frank, and dry, but not humorless demoness. Her main job is driving the van most of the time, though she also has proficient knowledge in knitting, and medicine. She will provide support for the gang, but once combat starts, she's gone. Gear
RV - A fairly large motorhome, with a fully functional kitchen, bathroom, and even a few bedrooms. Her and Barkeep had to pool their funds to get this thing, so any damage to it will be met with a less than stellar stare.
Needles - Weaver's only actual weapon, A pair of knitting needles she's surprisingly good with.
Abilities: Weave is an amazing knitter, as obvious by her name, and she's also incredible agile. She can easily jump three times her own height and run circles around the average demon. Unfortunately, she's weak, both magically and physically. Her only real spells are a basic telekinesis and a minor healing spell.
Name: Nefas Alliance: Active obstacle. Appearance: N/A. Power Level: Major Boss Description: Nefas is the kind of guy who tries to fit a square block into a round peg, and he gets pissy when it doesn't work. He's almost always filled with an incredulous rage, and is always picking on the flaws in those around him and offering no help. That's probably why he's made himself leader of the region, and promptly locked up anyone deemed too annoying, or stupid, or... whatever he wants really. Gear
Watch - A stopwatch Nefas himself crafted.
Walkie-Talkie - An all purpose walkie-talkie designed to give out orders to his henchmen
Dataslab - An all purpose machine Nefas generally uses to keep tabs on what's going on in the asylum. It comes equipped with a handy map that tells him where he is and where all his guards are as well. His head guard, Mike, talks to him through his own dataslab.
Abilities: The most stand out quality of Nefas is his freakish strength. This goes beyond that of normal Cambion into a realm known almost on it's own. His chops are lethal, and he could punch through steel given enough rage. He isn't as blessed in the durability department, but he can take way more hits than he ought to anyways out of seemingly pure power of will. He's also a good strategist, and expert clockmaker.
[center][img][/img][/center] [b]Name:[/b] Self explanatory [b]Alliance:[/b] Active assistance, passive support, neutrality, passive dislike, or active obstacle. [b]Appearance:[/b] Anything that may be omitted, added, or changed from the image. [b]Power Level:[/b] Weakling, Mook, Miniboss/PC Level, Boss, Major Boss [b]Description:[/b] Both their personality and what they do to help or hinder. [b]Gear:[/b] Any gear that they would have immediately available. [b]Abilities:[/b] Skills and natural abilities, including general spells.
Appearance: Standing to the full height of 5'1" but regularly slouching to the height of 4'6", Kritch's smaller than average height is used to his advantage within the degregated hellscape. Kritch has patchy black fur that barely covers his grotesque muscular bipedal rat body, his beady red eyes constantly run over his surroundings, and his malformed hands and feet are to fit those giant razor sharp claws. Kritch's molars and incisors are also formed to be as sharp as knives, and at all times ready to cleave through flesh for the regular greedy mouth of the rat. Lastly, his clothes are made up of torn rags that cover his body to a good degree, managing to keep most of his body covered in weak cloth but allowing his movements to be completely free for his erratic move set.
Gender: Incubic
Personality: Constantly on the verge of breaking down to his primal instincts, Kritch finds himself at all times in a rather irritated mood, and will most likely bite anyone that would get too close to him. So, normally, you can find him being rather fidgety and suspicious of almost everything that surrounds the demon, and especially on people that he is told to trust.
Greatest Sin: Envy, ignoring the fact that gluttony and greed are almost on the verge of controlling the small-minded rat, envy is the sin that Kritch feels the most whenever he sees any living being. The struggle to suppress his very instincts are hard enough, but watching creatures able to fully act in whatever way they want without any hardships at all has made the rat green with envy.
Motivation: Kritch believes that if he gets out of hell, away from his race of disgusting creatures that he calls family, he can will himself to rid the constant urge to murder everything around him without any influence from where he was born. He wants to be away from the mentality of his race and birth place and turn into something that he can call just himself rather than labeled as some rat fighting against their blood.
Biography: Born in hell, Kritch was made as small units of demons to serve one of the higher ranking rat demons for their various purposes as either extra food, slaves, or used as disposable soldiers. Kritch for some strange reason was created accidentally with a higher sense of intellect compared to the rest of his kin. Maybe it was some divine punishment or intervention when it came to morphing his body, but for some reason he could have something more than just the regular basic mindset of following orders blindly and surviving off basic instincts. Kritch hid this fact from his superiors, allowing someone like him as smart as his masters would end his life fairly early by being ordered to be eaten by his own kin. So, he bided his time, allowing himself to mask his presence within the countless other small-minded rodents and deducing his escape against his supposed "superior" masters.
It wasn't too hard for Kritch to escape, most masters assume that they have complete control over their slaves, but all Kritch had to do is wait until most were either sleeping or fighting amongst each other. However, the problem with straying away from the swarm was that he was now just a weak starving rat that was all alone in the hellscape. It was hard to survive, but he knew that he wouldn't stoop so low as to survive off the basic instincts that would mindlessly control his life. So, stubbornly, Kritch survived on the scraps of other demons, but kept his sense of dignity to not revert back to his basic form. He trained and taught himself to act as a hidden agent, his movements faster than most demons and his small size able to easily hide himself in most situations. Kritch found himself living amongst the street rats, but it was better than being a mindless slave to his greedy masters.
This situation lasted for around three years, his body well-tuned and his instincts top notch to survive most stray encounters with other creatures that roam the land. He had even taught himself some magic, basic magic, but none the less another added skill to survive and strengthen himself in the harsh landscape. He had accepted his fate, stubbornly going against his will of his mind and would rather survive and die on his own terms. Though, this didn’t mean that Kritch found himself envious of the denizens of hell, he yearned for their lives of simplicity that they continue without even struggling against fighting their very nature. After years of looking upon strangers in the shadows, he soon turned bitter against these unknowing people, finding that these races take their lives for granted in not knowing the hardships of some that have to face for their entire life. This bitter resentment corrupted his soul as he soon found himself angry, suspicious, and generally a rather rude attitude to all around him.
Skills: Agile, fast, and small, Kritch finds himself able to climb and scurry against all forms of obstacles that is in his way. He is also able to easily shroud himself in shadows, and able to hide his sound as well on those rather quiet days to avoid alert. Also, his claws and teeth are able to slice through flesh rather easily, though tougher muscles and skin can still be injured rather than the neat cleave that is normally done to regular flesh.
Skitterleap - In small distances, Kritch is able turn into smoke and travel at blurring speeds to appear in another location, he soon reappears in his physical form.
Gear: In self-defense, Kritch finds himself holding two sturdy weapons to defend his life. These weapons include a poisoned dagger meant to paralyze the body with a gruesome punching dagger to deal lethal punches to anyone that would come at him in a aggressive manner without any escape for the rat. The rest is the raged cloth that adorns his body, simply just two weapons and some clothing.
Appearance: Villiam (pronounced vile-ee-um) appears as a dark silhouette of a man standing five feet and eleven inches tall with a lean muscular build. Individual features are difficult to make out as his body is composed of toxic sludge and noxious fumes. His composition gives off various shades of purple in color, from the dark near-black of his primary form to the light wisps of fumes rolling off of him to the bright purple manus that makes up his eyes or heralds his magic.
Personality: Villiam is, in a word, psychotic. He speaks with a soft English accent that appears calm, composed, and perfectly sociable, but it hides a lunatic that enjoys the pleasures of torture and murder. His victim pool has increased since becoming a spirit, as with the lack of memories and sense of self he has expanded to bring harm to anybody, yet at the same time it has decreased since, well, in Hell nobody really dies. It's frustrating to him. After all, he's had losses in his life (he thinks) so life owes him, and he aims to take what he's owed. When on his bad side, Villiam is one sadistic mother fucker. When on his good side, you'd best still watch your back, for he may plant a knife in it. Hey, harmless prank, right? It's not like you can actually die!
Greatest Sin: Lust, for the abstract pleasures of torture and death. He doesn't kill out of anger, but because it feels good.
Motivation: Villiam desires to find a way to earth for two reasons. The first is so that he can retrace the life of the soul he is bonded with in hopes of learning why he feels he needs to kill. The second is so that he can find more victims that actually suffer death.
Skills:
Technology and engineering - For whatever reason, Villiam is a wizard when it comes to building things, especially robotics. He's a good source for cybernetics, so long as he's got the material to make it with.
Enchanting - In accordance with the above, Villiam can build items, weapons, armor, and other trinkets infused with Manus to create desirable effects. Naturally he's best with making things involving toxins, corrosives, and pollutants.
Knife fighting - Villiam is proficient, though not extremely skilled, in handling knives and uses them primarily for murder rather than fighting fairly.
Spell: Pollution Generation - The soul of Villiam bonded to a botched spell attempt at creating corrosive pollutants. As such he is the spirit of slime, grime, muck, toxins, and chemicals. This suits him well enough, since smothering a victim in toxic sludge and drowning them in it is a pretty sadistic way to murder. He also enjoys generating and giving off poisonous gases, though his "team" are safe... For the time being.
Gear:
Knife - It's used to cut and stab things. Like carrots. Or steak. Or you.
Toolkit - A basic tool kit that covers everything one might need to work on machinery. Keeps it inside his body unless its being used.
Dataslab - A basic piece of equipment everyone should have!
Name: Toby Skinner Sex: Male Greatest Sin: Greed Motivation: To possibly escape hell. Personality: His past has taught him how to be secretive, as well as how to form a good story in a tight situation. But he stays optimistic and sometimes tries to crack a joke. He sometimes uses light-hearted sarcasm to try to lighten the mood in tense situations. He is very protective of his teddy bear, don't ask why. He tries to be a kind and nice person but he can be serious or hostile of needed. If he trusts you, he will fight for and with you. He has learned loyalty from the guild. He is goal oriented and won't stop until the mission is completed. Biography: Born in the early 1990's to parents who soon left him because they financially and emotionally couldn’t raise a child. Toby was taken in by a member of a thieves guild and was raised and trained to be a thief. As he grew, he became very close to the leader of the guild and received the best training and teaching. Trained in persuasion and slight-of-hand pick-pocketing he began stealing what he could from unsuspecting victims. All he has ever known was thievery and greed. Never caught in the act, he continued to steal whatever he wanted. With nothing but his wits and sticky fingers, he got by quite well. One day he was doing his daily rounds, pick pocketing anyone he wanted. Just walking about town. Then decided to swipe some jewels from the jewelers. Just like normal. A quick job with little risk, having been done maybe fifty times. Walking in and selecting a target to go home with, he decided upon what seemed to be the biggest rock in the store. Has to be at least worth one million. Waiting for an opening to get close to the target. There seemed to be some commotion out in the street. So out of curiosity, he went to go see what was going on. Smoke began to disperse across the street and he soon realized that a riot broke out. He had to get out of here quickly before it got any worse. So he quickly ran back into the store, smashed the glass case surrounding the jewel and grabbed it, expecting everyone to be distracted by the riot. He began to make his escape. But soon after leaving the store, he was met by an officer armed with a shotgun who saw him steal the jewel. When he frantically tried to escape, the officer fired his gun. In a extreme spike of pain, his right arm was gone, completely gone. In extreme pain and fear, he ran. Running as fast as his body would take him before collapsing from pain and blood loss. When he woke up, he was back in his home. He was groggy and sore. Looking around, he saw his master and a few of his other companions in the room. As he let out a painful groan he attempted to stand. His companions quickly rushing to his aid, helping him stand. He realized that every part of his body but his right arm. Looking over to his arm, he realized that it wasn’t his arm. It was cybernetic! He started freaking out, asking what happened and why his arm was like this. When they finally calmed him down enough to try to explain what happened. They told him everything about how the riot started and how he lost his arm. Then he asked how they were able to afford this. They responded by telling him that they sold the jewel he stole and used the money to get it. They soon began to teach him how to use the arm and retaught him his skills and how to function. Not too much time had passed before he was out in the field again, doing small jobs and working his way up. Then he caught word of a huge job coming up and he automatically wanted to have it. Trying to get his reputation back and climb back to his rank. But this job was more than he thought. He was attempting to steal very valuable jewelry from Royalty. It went don quickly when one of his companions tripped an alarm. When he was caught, he tried escaping, but failed. After a few more attempts, they were tired of his little games and the guards beat him to death. When he woke up in hell, his arm was gone and he had a massive headache. Not realizing where he was, he began walking around, looking for people so he could ask where he was. He didn’t remember being beaten to death, he didn’t remember anything! All he knew was his name and very few things about himself. While he was walking around, he saw a tavern. So he walked in and saw Barkeep…
Skills: Thievery, stealth, persuasion, light on his feet, fast, great at forgery of signatures. Gear: Cybernetic arm (lost when he died), One Revolver, One small teddy bear.
Sex: Despite being a sir, Jonathan was actually Jennifer Light, a woman who faked being a man and getting into an army from it
Small Appearance Note: Jennifer Light has short auburn hair concealed by her helmet, and her chest is small but not completely flat.
Personality: Jonathan is a noble, typically quiet man, preferring to speak with actions rather than words. He swore himself to his duty as a crusader back in the days of old, and upholds his ideals of being that crusader, despite fighting for a God that he doesn't believe in. He has his own affiliations of religious ideals and is not afraid to call upon them and ask for help. He hates people who think highly of themselves, seeing them as scum, although he understands if someone says they're better than they are if they're in a joking mood. He is slightly racist towards fundamentalist Christians and Scientologists, believing that their ideas of a greater power are very illogical.
Greatest Sin: Pride. Jonathan went face to face against a horde of enemies before he died, and he imagined he could bore through enough of them and get through the insane amount of ruffians so he could flee the battle. Unfortunately, he cleaved through about 10 people before he took a fatal stab into the chest, causing him to bleed out.
Motivation: Jonathan has seen the error of his ways and desires to return to the realm of the living and seek redemption from his God, which he believes shows it's presence through his power. He feels the only way to do this is by making the journey back through Hell and help some people who also wish to make the journey back.
Biography: Jonathan was born in 1078 AD, in the city of Constantinople, from Jonathan Light II and his mother, Lelanna Light, two merchants currently selling dyes and clothes to the peasants of Constantinople. He didn't have any sort of formal education, aside from how trading and shopkeeping worked, and was always picked on as a kid for having a bit of a hard time talking, although nobody could really tell if he had difficulty talking or he just didn't like it. Eventually, Jonathan started a small shop near his parents, specializing in art and decorations, and Jonathan made a good living off it, worshipping his own God secretly when he didn't work. He loved his life and what he did, making a good profit off of it and meeting some interesting people. However, the First Crusades began, and when the enlistment happened in his area, he went and pledged his allegiance to the cause of the Pope. Jonathan joined due to him wanting a change of pace in his life, and he felt like this was his opportunity for a new chapter in his expansive tale. As a crusader, Jonathan quickly rose the ranks as a very talented warrior, eventually reaching the point where he commanded a small unit of about 6. He lived the tale of a true hero, and enjoyed every minute of it. Yet, as many books have taught us, every hero must fall sometime. A large siege happened at around 1101, where Jonathan and his group were stationed, and a very large number of enemy forces were approaching the crusaders. Having no fear and being backed by his powers, Jonathan rushed in with his group and was confident in their abilities to take down the opposition. Even though they had valor and bluster, the group was slain, with Jonathan among them. Things took an interesting turn for Jonathan once he woke up in Hell, namely being that he was of course in Hell. He had no idea why he deserved it at the time, but that didn't seem to phase him. He may have been in Hell, but he was not afraid. He still had the passion of his ways backing him, and he still had his mace and shield. He began to work his way into becoming a staple blacksmith in Hell, forging weapons for men, demons, spirits, and even the occasional cambion. He even so much success that he even somehow bought a small pocket dimension, which he can access through an object he carries on him. After a long time, he figured out through a fortune teller that he made it into Hell for committing the sin of Pride, which somewhat surprised him for he committed the sin in his final moments. Either way, the same fortune teller saw him escorting a group of others attempting to leave Hell, and he was alongside them, offering his hand in combat and hopefully reaching his goal of redemption. This brings us to where we are now...
Skills: Jonathan Light III was a very talented warrior and blacksmith, and in combat he specialized with his mace and shield. He is also a seasoned leader, with his military strategies being usually very successful. Although all this is well and good, neither of those skills match his passion and devotion to his God, expressed again through his power.
"The Light" was the power unlocked while Jonathan was a crusader, manifesting via a shining ball of light over his palm when he uses it. Although The Light has no weaponized features or anything of that caliber, it is seen by Jonathan as a God due to it's... otherworldly properties. Jonathan is able to pray to this being and he is then given something enlightening, largely consisting of knowledge, answers, and advice. The result he receives is dependent on his passion towards himself and his powers.
This power came to Jonathan accidentally, during one of his prayer sessions where he began to express his devotion through words, and the power was completely sealed and connected after he wrote the first scripture of The Light, which went as follows.
Even though we live in a world not ready; There are people in this world who are. Through this verse we are granted blessing; Allowing us to find true insight. Through this verse we are granted salvation; Allowing us to never truly die. Through this verse we are granted faith; Allowing our souls to accept this gift. If violence is ever to arise; We must rely not on The Light, but on ourselves. These are the words of The Light.
This spell is passed by devotion to The Light, and by writing the next part of the scripture attuned to your character's beliefs. However, any attempts at direct physical empowerment is not a belief of this religion. Indirect empowerment is fine. "Knowledge is power" and what have you.
Gear:
Jonathan's Mace, crafted out of fine bronze and scarred by bloodstains from his enemies.
Jonathan's Shield, adorned with a blazing sun and with the first scripture of the light secured in a compartment.
An enchanted tent, bought from a demon, containing a pocket dimension.
The pocket dimension, containing a bed, a chest full of smithing materials, and a very good forge.
Appearance: Deprave is a tanned humanoid with dark neck-length hair who stands at around three meters tall, with a highly muscular figure to match; this excessive size is about the only obvious indicator of demonic heritage, other than a constant grin of sharp yet unassuming teeth, an impossibly long and girthy prehensile tongue, and a rather deep brow that seems to shadow his eyes and bleach them a sickly off-white regardless of the lighting, with no obvious irises, and occasionally no visible pupils either. Under normal circumstances, he dresses lightly in the traditional dress of his people, essentially upsized versions of a loincloth, shoulder-spanning cape, and a reasonably ornate crown signifying his position as a king, plus earrings just for flair, though as of recent technological advances he has added holsters and sheaths for his weapons and equipment on his person, as well as carrying ammunition on him as needed.
The human who would become Deprave was born thousands of years ago, to a moderate-sized tribe of proto-Mayans in the Americas. In those days, the culture amongst these peoples was little better than tribal, but it had nonetheless advanced to the point where one leader could find themselves in charge of a fairly large group of people, if they played their cards right... and as it happened, Deprave was born directly into a role where he'd inherit power over the entire tribe. It was just bad luck (so it was claimed, anyway) that his father, the current ruler, was struck down by a most foul killer in Deprave's early twenties, and that Deprave himself was now in a position to heavily abuse his power, and possessed a mindset that encouraged him to do so... and so he did.
At first, it was merely warmongering. Where he could, he had his tribe invade the lands of other, smaller tribes, subjugating their people under his own, and when necessary picking out the choicest samples of human cruelty to twist into his minions, a sort of bodyguard for what was to come. As his tribe captured other tribes, so did it grow, and so did it gain the capacity to capture yet more tribes, and so did the cycle continue, until the manpower he commanded was easily the greatest unified force within a great spread of land. Indeed, this conglomeration may have been the initial source of more recent Mayan civilisation, and the great stylised cities of the Classical era of the Mayan empire. Yet it was not at no cost: even at this stage, the leader of this multi-tribal culture had begun performing terrible torments on his lessers, often having his cronies kidnap common folk to gruesomely torture them, and as the population grew, so too did the degree to which he could engage in such behaviour without severely impacting its numbers.
This situation only escalated further over time, and it wasn't long before the first of many attempts to slay him were enacted, barely held off by his guards at the time. After that, he chose to heighten his security, and at the same time announced himself and all his future descendants as being the offspring of the gods, to be considered the highest of rulers and to be treated with the corresponding respect. Naturally, his more moral servants were outraged, one even going so far as to call him a great number of names, including "The Depraved One". To this, he laughed, ordered a girl child sent to his bedchambers to show how depraved he could be, then executed the woman when she failed to refer to him by his new name, the very same insult she had just flung at him.
From that day forward, he would become more and more sadistic, conquering ever more peoples and ending the lives of many of those subjugated, and ever more assassins found themselves brought to heel by his loyal henchmen, subsequently tormented and tortured in the most vile of manners, in a cycle that seemed endless. This would be the time in a story where a great hero would step up and kill the mad god-king that claimed leadership; unfortunately, real life is not so kind, and the Depraved One ruled his kingdom for more than fifty years before eventually succumbing to the natural cycle of aging, brought low by what modern humans know as a heart attack. Naturally, the people rejoiced, and the Depraved One's heir, knowing full-well that he might be less lucky than his father, denounced the man, demanding that all record of his rule be erased from history, never to be spoken or written of again, and all his positive accomplishments attributed to the ruler before him, as well as the heir himself; the prior proclamation of deific blood certainly helped ease people into that mindset, and helped keep them from rioting in his own lifetime, since conditions had undeniably improved after the change of leadership.
Long before European settlers ever found their way to the New World, the Depraved One had been forgotten by time, a relic of an age all but forgotten. However, his story markedly did not end there: for obvious reasons, his soul was sent to Hell, in a time well before demons had forsaken torture as being too much hard work, and so he was trapped and tortured for century after century, millenium upon millenium, until some time in the 16th century. This was a good three hundred years after the general halt of demonic torture, but the Depraved One was still on note as being especially fun to subject to his own methods of murder, and a particular group of demons had made sure to keep him chain up for their own fun.
Yet these demons had grown lax, the chains holding him had grown weak, and the Depraved One, never shying away from his nature as a total monster, had long ago started making in-roads to freeing himself. One day, when only one demon was "on duty", he made his move, abruptly pulling himself free of the wall he was attached to, catching the demon in the chains still locked firm to his wrists and ankles to prevent it from fighting back against him, then having his way with it for several days before escaping. The demon's fellows found it thoroughly broken in both body and spirit; however, the Depraved One was free again, and immediately began a campaign of terror against humans, demons, and to some extent spirits, which would span a good two centuries on and off, remaining in hiding whenever he wasn't preying on the weak, before anybody so much as knocked him down a peg.
By this, the 1700s, he had become well-known for his activities, and a gang of demons and humans decided to take him on, using one of their less-liked members as bait to draw him out, then ganging up on him and at least partially succeeding in subjugating him, though he dealt injuries out to many of their number that would take a great amount of time to heal. Even so, this was enough to convince them that he could be useful, and they decided he would be used as a frontguard for their men, once again trapped by his chains out of battle, yet using them to devastating effect when their gang faced off against others. That said, the Depraved One did not hold leadership over a small empire for fifty years without being highly charismatic, and he ever so slowly wheedled his way into first their acceptance, then their trust, and ultimately their loyalty, essentially forcing himself into a position of leadership within a few decades through sheer force of charisma.
And there, ten years after reaching the top of their group, he made his announcement: their gang was destined not to merely feed on scraps, but to ultimately grow, and grow, and finally to reign supreme over all of Hell, toppling even the so-called "Mr. President" who claimed to be the master of that dimension, no matter how strong he supposedly was. Though some of the gang were sceptical, the Depraved One had done enough to turn his key supporters into practical fanatics, enforcing his will over this gang much the way his subjugates had done over his tribe and empire in life. And so things were for another few centuries: though the gang grew but slowly, they had effectively infinite time to become an army, and his initial followers only became more fanatically loyal as time passed, enforcing the state upon any newcomers to the group, in much the way a cult of violent thugs bent on conquering Hell itself might do, something only enforced further by the tortures of the Depraved One - who eventually shortened his title to just Deprave, reflecting the changing times as technological advancement accelerated in the realm of the living - until some point in the late 1990's.
By then, the gang was about 150 souls strong, and human biological research had advanced quite far within the real world. Yet aspects of Hell had allowed it to advanced much further, and experiments were already being put into the creation of Cambions on a genetic level, rather than having demons merely magically enforce the state upon humans. Of course, somebody knew somebody who talked to somebody else, and one day, Deprave was approached by a human scientist, lacking in morality and seeking to produce only the strongest of beings, beings physically stronger than any demon. And who better than the mini-legend simply called Deprave? It took but a moment of thought for the would-be god-king to accept: he'd never been much good at magic anyway, and what could be better than immense strength for a man like himself?
Long story short, the procedure turned Deprave into what he is now: a hulking humanoid monstrosity, whose expansion in size shattered the manacles that had held his wrists and ankles for so long, and granted him absurd strength and durability, as well as an enhanced rate of healing when he did suffer injuries. Beyond this point, he has mostly continued his acts of incredible violence with his gang under his heel, with not much change other than a growth in power. However, current events seem to have granted him a new path: though taking over Hell is ultimately an unrealistic goal, as he has reluctantly admitted to his minions, conquering Earth is a more than viable option, and unlike a takeover of Hell, it is something that could perhaps be achieved within weeks or months, rather than centuries or millenia.
Thus his current situation: breaking a certain portal-generating demon out of her prison, and escorting her to somewhere or other. His minions, hanging back, will be both his prophets and his army, gathering new recruits and fighting under Deprave where needed; Deprave himself plans to do some conversion of his own, turning these other humans and demons who also wish to leave Hell into yet more loyal minions of himself, perhaps even forming a new set of generals to work as his power base over the other inhabitants of Hell, and ultimately those of Earth, if the whole thing hasn't just been utter bollocks from the start.
Personality: Deprave is nothing short of cruel. Mentally speaking, he is very unrestrained in terms of what he enjoys and allowing himself to enjoy them. In another universe, maybe this would have caused him to be a wholesome person who bettered the world greatly for the time he lived in; in this one, it led him to become a sadistic, gruesome individual who considers torturing a person to be a fun way to pass a few hours, violent murder a cheap laugh, and prolonged sexual assault against humans, animals, and sometimes even children to be somewhat vanilla preferences. This has not been lessened by thousands of years of torture turned against him, if anything heightening his gory ways whilst in Hell, especially since such harm now cannot kill his victims. Even so, he retains a certain degree of charisma (and in some circles a serious reputation for what he does) that, generally speaking, keeps him from being attacked on sight, at least until he makes his own moves to harm others, and at times even gives him the facade of being a brilliant leader figure.
Greatest Sin: Lust - Though he is certainly incredibly sinful in many ways and in great measure, Deprave's biggest weakness has always been to indulge himself in the worst excesses of human nature, be it cold-blooded murder, prolonged torture, or extreme sexual vice. The very fact he chose to rename himself after this fact, on a whim no less, only plants him more firmly within this sin's boundaries.
Motivation: Deprave sees an opportunity to reclaim what he once had in returning to Earth: where he once ruled over but tens of thousands, he now has the opportunity to claim leadership of millions, if not billions of souls, and with his enhanced physique (and perhaps the opportunity to gather the demonic and damned alike to his armies), he figures he has a realistic possibility of taking the civilised nations of Earth by storm and planting himself as a sort of God-Emperor, for eternity if at all plausible.
Skills: As far as mutations go, Deprave's powers as a Cambion are largely restricted to physical abilities that turn him into a walking tank, with massive strength even for a Cambion, great durability and stamina, and much faster regeneration than normal humans possess; these are all relatively simple on their own, but make for a tough combination to deal with as a whole. Additionally, through long study of the relevant techniques throughout his life, he is a highly capable torturer, and only mildly less capable as an interrogator, making him more than able to draw from a person any answer to any question he likes, including, if he really must, the truth of a matter, something only enhanced by his newfound strength and the near-immortality that most humans and demons possess in Hell.
What really makes him stand out from a mere brute, though, is a form of twisted intelligence and charismatic ability. For starters, he was skilled enough a leader of men to conquer and annex a great many Mayan civilisations into his own in his time; and, even considering that he claimed lineage from the gods of his culture, most of the reason he survived to a natural death as a mortal was his capacity to pick out from a crowd those who were easily moulded to suit his needs, or better yet already shared his disturbing worldview, and twisting them into utterly loyal henchmen who would follow his orders gladly, and were more than willing to spend their lives in his defence. With no lack of cruel men and women in Hell, of course, he believes rebuilding his forces should be comparatively simple overall.
Gear: AA12 shotgun, 2005 model - The classic automatic shotgun, a staple and a lifesaver. Well, moreso a range enhancment tool, but it is good for kneecapping both a person's legs off with relatively long-range frag grenades, "stapling" them to the nearest wall with a lead slug, then blasting their face off with a point-blank 12-gauge buckshot round, thus saving your own life, kind of. Slightly modified so that Deprave's giant fingers can pull the trigger properly, and holstered on his left hip. Another AA12 shotgun, 2005 model - Because when you're strong enough to fire an automatic shotgun like it's an air pistol, why not do it with two? He has the ammo to maintain that sort of fire rate in stockpile, at least. This one has also been modified so Deprave can fire it properly, and is holstered on his right hip. Blackgore - An elaborate custom macuahuitl around three meters long, designed several years after Deprave's conversion into a Cambion with his egregious strength and advancements in modern science in mind: it is constructed entirely out of an extremely hard and dense substance, tungsten carbide, save for three rows of obsidian blades running round the outside edges, and it can be used as both a blade and a club, wielded in either one hand or two, with the capacity to deal out substantial damage as painfully as possible. Normally, these obsidian blades would be fairly brittle and require frequent replacement, but the entire weapon has been enchanted in production to be extremely durable, meaning that blade maintenance is essentially unnecessary, and dealing significant damage to the main portion of the weapon appears to be impossible. This is typically sheathed diagonally across his back in a metallic custom sheath designed specially for the blade to be pulled perpendicular to the sheath, as it won't fit anywhere else and would be difficult to draw cleanly from a standard sheath. Chains - A set of four quite hefty iron chains about a meter long each, these are the very same bonds that held him for thousands of years, put to use as weapons for another half a millenium, and only disconnected from his body upon his transformation. Nowadays, these are not frequently used, being that Deprave has better options- though heavily enchanted to provide durability enough to resist the ravages of time, particularly against rust and direct attempts to break them, they have certainly seen better days- but they can still be combined with Deprave's strength to practically cut humans in half as easily as restraining them. Stored in a holder over his left-hand lower back. Dataslab - A good old commonplace slab of data, larger than usual to account for his own size. This is used by Deprave for communicating with his gang/army, playing a few games when for some reason he has to trick himself into avoiding being a murderous sickening bastard (Mr. President forbid), and very little else. Because it is important, he stores it in a fairly thick metal box lined with cotton, which is then stored in a holster on his right-hand lower back, conveniently lying beneath Blackgore's ultradurable "blade" whilst the club is sheathed.
Ngralarthrekhfehrrothirlakrathakr "Old N" the Infernal Gardener
Appearance: Old N stands, in all his crustacean glory, slightly taller than the average human, and is significantly broader. His carapace is covered in all manner of clinging foulness - moss, lichens, mushrooms, strands of algae, even barnacles - which no known force has ever proved capable of prying off, and is chaotically scattered across the entirety of his body. The only exception to this uncouthness of growth is constituted by two patches of green-yellowish lichen upon his left pincer, whose astonishingly complex forms resemble a multitude of filaments gathering into respectively a spiral and a squat humanoid shape.
Gender: Incubic
Personality: If a single word were to be chosen to describe Old N, it would be "phlegmatic". The fact there is little to be found in Hell which would fail to leave him unfazed is due not so much to a wealth of experience as to the apathy which appears to pervade his being to the last synthetic fibre. Generally, his demeanour is that of someone who has been abruptly awoken from deep slumber and is eager to dismiss anything, be it the collapse of a piece of furniture or the imminent destruction of the universe, with a feeble waving of their hand and some inarticulate muttering before turning over and returning into the embrace of Morpheus. Even those things which most irritate him, namely, urgency in any guise and being disturbed in his rest, fail to elicit a proper response, and that any attempt from his side to remedy to them is doomed to half-heartedness is a foregone conclusion. That said, when he is provoked to a degree sufficient to rouse him from his eternal torpor - a feat which only the luckiest or most determined can achieve - his indifference readily transforms into anger, and he makes it a point of compunction not to stop before anything until the object of his displeasure has been thoroughly removed.
Greatest Sin: Sloth. Despite having been created to, essentially, work, Old N loathes the very name of effort with all the passion he can muster, and only resorts to it when his explicit goal is to avoid it. He has been known to slumber for decades on end when left undisturbed, and, were it up to him to decide, would gladly never make the slightest movement in his indefinitely long life.
Motivation: From his few interactions with damned souls Old N has gleaned that living humans might be easier to intimidate than dead ones and, most importantly, tend to permanently stop moving when dismembered (and make good compost, as well). His current plan is thus to reach the world of the living and kill all the humans he finds there, so that he might finally build himself a truly peaceful resting place.
Biography:
The demon who bears the nigh-unpronounceable name of Ngralarthrekhfehrrothirlakrathakr, almost invariably abbreviated to "Old N" (originally simply "N") came into being some millennia ago, when the denizens of the underworld still bothered with tormenting those who were presumably sent to them for chastisement. He was the handiwork of one particularly enterprising demonic overseer, whose intent it was to find a manner of employing Hell's rich and varied ecosystems as yet another device in the fiendish torturers' arsenal. Enter the Infernal Gardener: a creature with an unnatural aptitude for botanic crafts and abilities, physical and magical alike, enabling it to exploit the surrounding environment for all it could offer to reach its goals. Unfortunately, something went awry in the process, and, while the new crustacean demon was just as capable as he was supposed to be, he was severely lacking as far as motivation was concerned, and preferred sleeping in a warm mire over actually attending to his duties.
N spent the next centuries avoiding work as best as he could. Incidentally, despite his unenthusiastic performance, the results his efforts yielded were astoundingly better than satisfactory. The plants and fungi he sowed about his territory and let grow unchecked painfully entangled, tore and poisoned the souls tossed there; the damned he hastily buried in the ground and then promptly forgot suffered hideously in their entombment; and the screams of those he took to mangling in fits of frustration resounded most pleasingly in the air, drowning out those of his fellow-demons' own victims. Thus, he was assigned more and more "raw materials", and his more and more expedite methods wrung more and more pain from them, which caused the vicious circle to begin anew. N was beginning to seriously consider tunnelling his way to freedom from the elder demons' supervision (but could never quite gather the resolve to proceed with it), when the work-load began to grow lax as increasing numbers of demons grew tired of their routines, and eventually the overseers ruling that section proclaimed themselves kings, emperors, warlords and the likes and began warring with each other for supremacy. N seized, for once, the opportunity to quietly make his escape, and began to wander the infernal lands.
Though his needs were most unassuming - all he required was a comfortable and sufficiently fertile spot where he might lie down and surround himself with his plants, which served as a necessary protection - he encountered no lack of trouble during his subsequent peregrinations through the hellscape. The blame lay, invariably, with the realm's other inhabitants. As soon as N, by that time already Old, would find a secluded spot, a group of settlers would arrive and chase him away from there to build their outrageous houses; or else, his vegetal and fungal guardians would spread too far as he slept and encroach upon some town or the other, leading to armed expeditions evicting him from those spots as well. Amusingly, the other side of this age-spanning conflict hardly ever saw itself as being at fault, and, indeed, Old N became known as a scourge to the most peaceful and sedentary of Hell's inhabitants, even finding his way into folklore as a sort of bogeyman in some regions.
Finally, it came to the point where an exasperated victim of the incursions of Old N's plants told him that if he wanted to sleep, he ought to go into a tavern. Mildly curious, Old N wandered about until he found one; and, while the tavern itself was fairly disappointing, what he heard within it was such as to warrant his struggling curiosity's survival.
Skills: Although not as great as that of a Cambion or a demon designed for such purposes as hand-to-hand combat, Old N's strength is fairly impressive if compared to that of a normal human, though it is significantly offset by his infuriatingly slow movement pace. Additionally, his carapace is robust, rendering him quite durable, and his pincers are frighteningly effective at doubling as weapons (or shovels). His crustacean nature enables him to breathe underwater, though submerging renders him even drowsier than normal, and his training and experience have contributed to his knowledge of infernal flora reaching truly impressive levels. Lastly, Old N is capable of ingesting his own Magic Mixture without ill effects - in fact, it seems to invigorate him, though it renders his breath unacceptable even by demonic standards.
Green Thumb - This spell enables Old N to briefly animate nearby plants and fungi, causing them to gather into vaguely humanoid shapes, and bind them to his will, directing their movements. The larger the amount of energy he channels, the more vegetation he can animate, and the longer the duration of the spell.
Enchanting - Old N's Magic Mixture - By infusing with Manus a foul brew of dubious herbs, malodorous mushrooms, discarded by-products of genetic experiments and some unmentioned, and probably unmentionable, "secret ingredients", Old N can create an elixir he names Magic Mixture. If poured onto vegetation, the latter will be hideously mutated, and have its growth and reproduction rates abnormally increased. The Magic Mixture is normally toxic to lost souls and demons alike, though its creator is, as mentioned, able to drink it himself.
Gear:
A worn, filthy bag containing, in a number of jars, seeds and spores of Old N's favourite plants and fungi.
Two large metallic flasks filled with Magic Mixture.
Appearance: A wiry, yet sturdily built young chap, Grog prefers to cover himself in numerous articles of protective clothing, such as reinforced leather, goggles and even a few hints of chainmail. Behind his makeshift mask and anachronistic helmet, there lies the face of a twenty-something year old man, with almost shoulder-length messy brown hair, a somewhat handsome, angular visage and an ever-present stubble. His eyes are dark brown, almost black, and glisten distinctively in stronger than average lighting.
Sex: Seldom.
Personality: Grog is the human personification of "Hold my beer dude, I got this." Hot-headed, completely chaotic and boisterous to boot, he's the type of guy who'd shoot himself in the foot on a dare, and then pistol-whip the doctor for trying to sedate him, then somehow mix the various available sedatives into a cocktail powerful enough to send a blue whale home trippin' balls while also acting as a potent fire-bomb if ignited properly. To add further figurative dynamite to the figurative pile, a hair-trigger temper is only matched by his inquisitive nature and love of booze, effectively making him a disaster with legs.
Greatest Sin: Wrath. Two words: Unrestrained and violent.
Also bar fights.
Motivation:"Escort a portal making demon so she can open up one of those bad boys to god knows where? That'd fucking rule."
Biography:"Honestly, I've got nothing to say. I had my fun. I did anything I wanted to do. I only wish I died with more style. You know, getting hit by a truck hurts like a bitch."
That pretty much sums our short-tempered, strong-livered modern day adventurer's story. In life, he was a virtually jobless part-time delinquent, living off petty theft, mainly by blowing up the showcases of chain stores and running off overloaded with stuff in the middle of the night, or by snatching their cash registers in broad daylight and hoping nobody caught up to him. What little earnings he had, he mainly spent in booze, pizza, and materials for more homemade death traps.
Overall, his hobbies mainly consisted of raising as much hell as humanly possible. They included: Previously mentioned cases of theft, public intoxication, loitering, vandalism, disorderly conduct, assault, battery, numerous attempts to pimp farm animals, unlawful possession of weapons and improvised explosive devices, construction of said devices, dumpster arson, jaywalking, uncountable barfights and a hell of a lot more nasty things. It is worthy to note, that even though he was extremely disruptive, Grog displayed an unhinged version of fairness (that was often subject to change), preventing him from lapsing into a full-on psychotic.
Despite his bad habits, Grog had only spent a few months total in prison, due to somehow always evading capture. Eventually, though, his recklessness caught up to him, and he ended up mangled in the sidewalk, after an attempt to outrun a few officers by charging head first into high-speed traffic.
Once he awoke in Hell, Grog was, to say the least, excited. A chance to have a blast and carry on boozing for all of eternity? So what if it had a few pesky demons and nightmarish creatures? It seemed like a pretty sweet deal. And so he went, his vile, bar-hopping, face-beating campaign continuing to this day.
Skills:
Hold My Beer: Grog's most formidable trait is his ability to constantly innovate in unconventional (and dangerously idiotic) ways. He knows enough about subjects such as engineering, science and the occult to create extremely hazardous and utterly bizarre inventions. Furthermore, even though his long-term planning skills are poor at best, he can improvise mind-boggling "strategies" on the spot to counter pressing problems.
Fist of the Barfighter: A life spent in blowing things up and consuming copious amounts of booze has left Grog with the ability to hold his own in a fight exceptionally well. He is an unpredictable and highly formidable combatant, relying on his quick wits, impulsive nature and overwhelming fury, as well as the element of surprise (that he himself is not immune to) to bring down his foes (as well as everything else in the vicinity, himself included).
Battle Brew: Perhaps an echo of his habits in the mortal realm, Grog has the uncanny ability to gain almost supernatural strength and toughness proportionate to the booze he consumes, at the measly cost of mental stability. As if he had enough to begin with.
Weaponized Driving: If you want to go somewhere in a jiffy, and you've got a nasty pack of goons on your trail, Grog is your guy. He's an inhumanly good driver, able to perform crazy stunts and maneuvers other road warriors would never think of attempting. There's one teeny-tiny catch, however. He's quite possibly just as dangerous a driver as he is a fearless one, and chances are, it'd be better for everyone involved if Grog remained far, far away from the steering wheel.
None yet, but he's bound to concoct something disastrous eventually.
Gear:
Power Pint: A slightly oversized, enchanted wooden pint stolen by Grog during a night that he can't remember anything about, it has the ability to fill itself with a variety of beverages. It also appears to be indestructible.
Cargo Belt: A belt with numerous pouches full of stuff. They act as an efficient way for Grog to store knickknacks and tricks.
The Beatstick: A metallic baseball bat with nails and rusted barbed wire welded on it.
Appearance: It is clear that Exules was once a human, but any semblance of humanity has all but disappeared from his facade. His eyes are gone, the sockets filled with blue flames. His palms are afire, and his body covered with wounds that have not and never will heal. Most conspicuous of all is the wound across his throat, a dark red slash that cuts his throat in twain.
Biography: Exules Rex once had a name, but like so many demons and Cambions, he has become separated from this identity that he only vaguely remembers.
From the point of an outsider, Exules Rex was once a great king of men, a ruler that spread over a vast and wealthy kingdom. Power seeped through every pore of the Banished King's skin, and still he craved more. He murdered and conquered, razed and pillaged to force the submission of the princes that surrounded him. He inherited the neighboring kingdom of his brother through a spider web of assassins, married his sister to a neighboring Pagan tribal kingdom, the king of which later mysteriously died. Using the claim of his sister, he absorbed the kingdom into his own augmenting realm. Marrying himself to the daughter of a Lombard, he claimed the Italian heartland, and through bloody conquest became the ruler of the Alpine passes.
He became obsessed with power, obsessed with the grandeur of his status. No palace could be larger or more magnificent than his. No army could defeat his in battle. No single man could vanquish him in combat. He placed his status higher and higher, brushing the very brink of the heavens. A great stone castle of white and gray was built upon the Alpine peaks, set there to touch the very hand of God. The Banished King was more than a man, then; he was more than a god. He WAS God, creator and destroyer of worlds. The fortress could never be finished, never satisfied him. Ever more towers of gold and white shot up into the clouds until he had exhausted his kingdom's wealth and manpower.
All the while the nobles of the land were conspiring against him, plotting the prideful king's downfall. Supplication of the great man's presence could easily be achieved through flattery, and these treacherous nobles soon gained audience with the king of kings, creator and destroyer of worlds. The great man, who had conquered continents, was suddenly beset upon by his very own obsequious squires. He was slashed--the wounds were violently done to show the weakness of the man--across the face, on the arms, over his body. A final noble flung the golden crown from his head and slashed open his throat, letting the deep red blood pour onto the glassy marble floors.
For his sins in the world, he was denied death and entry to heaven. Demons, sent to collect the soul of the Banished King, viewed his heinous treachery with such abhorrence that it became clear that even the mundane circles of Hell could be too lax on him. Thus they placed a curse upon him, binding his soul back with his scarred and mutilated body. He became doomed to walk the wastes of Hell, banished from the inclusion into a circle, into the eternal suffering of the damned. Mute and immortal, he walked too the wastes of Pandaemonium, delivering treacherous souls to their damnation close to the fury of Satan.
He is the Crusader against the traitor, a demon-soul forever tied to the mutilated body as a reminder of the evils of pride and treachery. Though he rarely needs to battle these traitors, as he possesses an uncanny method of persuasion (see abilities).
Personality: He is, after his fall, unmistakably muted. He rarely speaks, and when he does it is in a harsh grating tone that most don't even bother to register. He is necessarily fatalist and at the same time possesses some remarkably obstinate corner of pride that keeps with him all this time. He is a man banished from salvation and banished from suffering. Caught with this alienation--a great suffering in and of itself--the Banished King tends to view others in a harsh lens, rarely thinking fondly of anyone upon first meeting them. Trapped as it were in his own human body, he cannot but help to crawl inwardly, and so much of his personality is suppressed under a dark and vague notion of escaping this Limbo.
Greatest Sin: Pride. He had climbed the highest peak of pride and glory, and the Banished King fell further than most men ever will.
Motivation: He wishes to escape Hell and avenge his death on those who killed him. Following that he wishes to either die properly and suffer for eternity, or suffer in order to get to Heaven.
Skills: The Banished King was given the singular gift of energy draining, a symbolic ability that emphasized the soul-draining that treachery wreaks upon its user. It's useful for bending others to his will, as a weakened soul will most certainly be a conciliatory one.
Gear: A broken sword he uses as a dagger A tattered cloak Piecemeal armor over his body Water to clear his throat Not much else...
Other: He was known in his human life as someone of humor, even if he committed such heinous crimes. As it is, he will occasionally show some humanity and let loose a sarcastic quip.
