@Dealdric Gunna have to say no to this one, your version of a demon does not fit into the fixed lore. I only allowed the Oni because it was basically an orc. If you want you could have a character that shares a body with a lesser evil spirit. If not that it could be of a race that is normally associated with evil.
Personality: Righteous, protective, cautious, easy to get along with if you are not a criminal.
The spirit of justice has lived long, but the idea he attempts to uphold has gotten him ridiculed by every being in the underworld he called home except the king of hell. He became strong and tried to bring some sense of order to the underworld, but to little avail. He was than banished from hell after an incident with chaos demons that attempted to kill him, but everybody said he started the fight. During his banishment to purgatory, beings of a human village in trouble attempted to summon him, and succeeded but at the price of delay due to the lack of criminals killed at the ritual and the corpse to act as his host was missing an organ. When he next awoke, he was on the mortal plain, in his form and he was in the middle of a battle between man and beast. The village burned, civilians screamed. A wrath he never new gave him strength, and he went to the aid of the civilians. A mother, also the witch to summon him and widow of the host corpse, and her two children were backed into an alley way buy a ferocious humanoid monster. It didn't notice him, and a trident formed in hand, and the beast was above him, on the end of his weapon of choice. He dropped the carcass and somehow comforted the family and led them and others to safety. He then finished the battle, earning the respect and later the assistance of the human leader. He then spent most of his years assisting that very man, than joined the village survivors as a way to have roots and a home. One day, a priest approached him. "How are you my hell-crew friend?" the priest said. "Why do you insult me priest? The hell crew are devils, I am Justice!" The priest smiled. "Then help the Conclave to prove yourself further to the races of good." and he did just that.
Weapons -The Gavel: A weapon built into his flesh and obeys commands, with the ability to morph into any weapon of his desire. He forged it himself, and no creature could replicate it. -Strength of the Innocent: The more innocents harmed around him, the stronger and angrier he gets.
Magic -The Fires of Conviction: Due to his supernatural nature, he can use some fire magic. -Stare of Evidence: Staring him in the eye tells him your thoughts and plans at the moment. -Body shift: The spirit is strong, but the host's form must come out to help the spirit rest.
Other "I hate cats" He is very protective of the family of his host, for a multitude of reasons. He claims the main one is a sense of gratitude for freeing him from purgatory. But he knows it has to do with the host, even though the features are no longer the same and the "D.N.A" as the new philosophies call it is different and full of magic.
As he watched the battle progress, he fought with his morals and the orders he received. Why must I be the one to stay back? I'm the one that's expendable, not those men! They all have families, and I have nothing. Send the demon, not the man. But perhaps there is wisdom in my orders? If only he looked into my eyes so I could read his thoughts! His tail went violently to the side, smashing an empty barrel. "This is torture worst than hell!" he roared in his harsh, hissing voice. A young mage apprentice, no older than 16, looked at him with both fear and curiosity. The boy stepped forward, with a parchment in his hand. "Sir Colith! What ails you?" The demon looked at the boy in surprise. "Few men ever talk to me with such respect! Well, if you must know, I am a justice spirit, and I see the injustice of not sending me first." He then looked at the parchment. "What be that? A spell?" The boy grinned. "I see how this will help you. Their your new orders." The spirit howled with delight.
Lev's entire outlook on life is tainted forever by the fate of his Kingdom. Where once stood a proud, dominating, inspiring presence, now lies a broken and defeated man, dithering in the ruins of his own shame and sorrow. What remains, in the desiccated and fetid remains? An abiding worship of the stories of the world, and those that carry them, a razor-sharp wit which has honed its edge to the bleak and bitter side of humour, and a dangerously fervent hope that flickers underneath it all that perhaps, the House of Tažn could restore its realm to greater glory.
Of Himself; Lev once thought as highly of himself as his subjects did, a man struggling to provide for and to confer prosperity to his realm in any way he could. Now however the Tažn heir see only the flaws in all his own actions, never failing to self-deprecate to the degree and intensity which might lead a man to believe him suicidal. The crushing reality is that so far sunken are Lev's expectations of himself, that he fails to see how he could ever hope to succeed at something as taxing as the effort of taking his own life. In many ways, the throes of Lev's depression most heavily fall upon his own self-image. His own story, Lev treats with acidic distaste, seemingly unwilling to regard it as anything more than a tragedy. He fails to openly acknowledge that there could ever be a continuation to his own story and in all ways but literal, treats his own tale as a stunted and abortive thing, which ought not to be observed even peripherally. On the rare occasions when he allows himself to look, he must reflexively flinch back, because every time he looks he becomes less and less certain of his own powerlessness, and starts discerning the beginnings of hope for redemption. The majority of the time, Lev relegates himself purposefully to the background of other people's stories, which brings us to...
Of Others; Lev's personality of dismal and hopeless despair is diluted somewhat, though not always in a beneficial way, by the personalities, histories, and actions of those that surround him. Ever a lover of stories, that remnant of himself springs to the forefront when an interesting stranger appears. Rather hypocritically, Lev is most irritated by those who fail to acknowledge their own story and share it with him, despite his attitude surrounding his own past. Should others express desires regarding Lev, he tends to make good on them, in a largely passive manner. He's gained all of his current relationships, intimate and otherwise, not through his own deliberate action except in regard to a desire to be involved in the stories of others. Consequently, Lev is bafflingly indifferent as to the role he plays, so long as he is cast in some role by others, in paradoxical externalizations of himself. Although one wouldn't suspect a depressive individual such as Lev to possess the disposition, it is because of his attitude that Lev is relentlessly extroverted, always seeking people. It causes him great distress to allow himself to focus too long inwardly, and he desires nothing so much as to provoke a reaction out of people who pry too deeply, whether it involves punching them in the face, or buying them a drink. Lev is a hero, a villain, a mentor, and an aspirant. He will be a friend, rival, enemy, or acquaintance. Lev doesn't care, he just wants to see where the story goes...
Of The Seekers; Lev's immediate impulse upon hearing of the organization was to join them, in what he guessed would be the greatest gathering of stories the world had ever seen. He has yet to crystallize his opinion of the organization's motives, goals, and personnel, such as they may be.
Of Ciir; Lev sees the world around him as reflective of his own's story's ending. A dying end to which no true purpose could ever meaningfully be given, beyond its housing of the stories of others of course. What he unconsciously persists in, is reflecting on the perspectives of others regarding the world, and how their perceptions might meld with and alter his own. He particularly fixates on the ways in which others seem to alter the literal and attach their own personal meaning to it, which may very well hold the key to changing Lev's own view of Ciir.
History
Leverin Tažn the First, King of Wéld, grew up with an idyllic childhood, with all who knew him expecting him to one day adopt the mantle of Kingship with ease, and capability. Trained in martial and magical skills, Lev became sufficient at the very least in defending himself, and gained the perspectives of both the warrior and the mage, knowledge and experience that Lev's parents knew he would be able to make good use of when holding council. Of eccentricities in childhood, Lev was almost lacking. He tended to trust his parents' judgment entirely and allowed them to guide him through all the preparation he would need to serve (as his father desired) as a diplomatic liaison between the neighbouring city-states and kingdoms. The few things that Lev took to of his own accord, reading in the library and watching bards, troubadours, and acting troupes, were things that his parents saw as harmless distractions. They didn't understand how profoundly Lev had been affected by these hobbies until it was too late.
Leverin came of age, and was sent out on his first diplomatic mission on behalf of his father. He had been tasked with negotiating a more profitable trade deal for Wéld. In that age of strife and conquest when the Imperium seemed poised to take the world out from under everyone's feet, alliances were more important than ever. More taken by stories and legends than anybody could ever have guessed, Lev had decided that his diplomatic tactic would be to allow his reputation to precede him. This is why, when Lev and his detail of guards encountered a burning and broken carriage, and heard screams from within, Lev himself leapt to action to try and save whatever poor soul it was that had come to such a bad fate. The guards helped, and within seconds of the guards helping to pull a man free of the carriage, it collapsed in on itself not a moment too soon. The person whom Lev had saved introduced himself as a castellan for King Dardates, monarch of the Kingdom of Sagrimarch. It was almost too good to be true, (and in fact was,) and Lev hastened himself with giving the castellan some of his own clothes to wear to cover himself, the castellan's own livery having scorched off in his harrowing brush with death. Having come to an easy resting place in the road just east of where the carriage had been attacked, as per the castellan's own explanation, Lev offered him a place to sleep amongst the rest. The castellan readily agreed and they sipped and drank until the evening grew late and all went to sleep. As Lev drifted off, he thought himself a proper hero, as in the stories of old that he had been regaled with since he first began watching plays and hearing the stories of the glorious exploits of legendary heroes. And from a diplomatic standpoint, Lev knew for certain that helping the castellan of the King whom he was going to seek a trade deal with would be a crucial advantage to have to win the alliance that would benefit Wéld the most.
And when Lev woke up, that happy fantasy was just as dead as the guards that had protected him to their dying breath, throats slit in their sleep. In a panic, Lev thought that whoever had attacked the castellan must have come after him as well, and it was with rising horror that Lev found himself searching in a panic for his signet ring and royal seal. Both gone. Further searching indicated no dead castellan and Lev was just as mystified by his own preserved life. Left with a million questions, no answers, and a lump of grief burning in his stomach, Lev began the long ride home on his charger, the only horse left alive.
Before he could reach the border of Sagrimarch, Lev was captured by soldiers wearing their colours and taken as a prisoner of war, as a member of the Royal Family, the war's instigator, and for fleeing a demand for his own arrest King Dardates himself. The soldiers told him in no uncertain terms that "his actions against the King were unforgivable," and that "only his value as a bargaining chip" was keeping him alive for the time being. That very same reason led to Lev being dragged across the country with the army, never actually meeting the King of Sagrimarch face-to-face, even though he was leading his armies in battle against Lev's father. Several letters requesting that a ransom be paid for their son, "the envoy of war," were sent to Lev's parents. No word of any reply ever reached Lev's ears.
Years of imprisonment had not deadened Lev to word of how the war was progressing, and as the war seemed to be coming to a close, with the Sagrimarchers on the defensive and looking for an opening for a treaty arrangement, he was hopeful of his reunion with his family and kingdom. When word however, reached the Sagrimarchers that both fronts, Wéldian and Sagrimarch alike, were being flanked by Imperium cavalry lines, an ungodly panic arose. The bloodbath that came from that masterful battle strategy of the Imperium, concocted to weaken both enemies beyond any hope of victory, left both dynastic families destroyed, their armies shattered.
Somehow, Lev had survived the carnage, only to be captured by Imperials wearing strange coloured clothes. He was confronted by... the castellan, from nigh on two years before, wearing the same strange outfit that the Imperials wore, though he seemed to be their leader. He explained in brief that he was thankful for Lev's aid in igniting aggressions between the Wéldians and Sagrimarchers, because if any two kingdoms under one banner had the potential to threaten the Imperium, it had been them. Without Lev's kind act of charity, the Imperial agent would not have been able to impersonate him, and declare the war that had cost both kingdoms their existence, and gained the Imperium two kingdoms' worth of new lands. He granted Lev the official title, of (pretender-to-the-throne) King of Wéld, a King without a Kingdom, and then shipped him off in irons to the Imperial frontier, on the other side of the world.
Lev would eventually through a series of breaks, end up a free man once again, though he never tried to regain his kingdom or press whatever claims he might have, using his identity as a kind of icebreaker, a joke to get whomever he was talking with to laugh. He buried himself in other people's stories, and let the world move him as it willed. After all, his own story seemed decidedly finished, with a suitably tragic end for all involved.
How wrong he was.
Weapons
The Sword of Kings ~ Wéldriž - A battered bar of rust, fashioned through many hours of absentminded upkeep into a sub-standard blade. A blacksmith might confuse it for a bar of metal still waiting to be shaped.
The Poniard of Kings ~ Grišiš - A dagger, of splendid quality, stolen. Sheathless, and tends to cut into Lev's belts.
The Sling of Kings ~ Žakr - When Lev's belt does break, he is quick to fashion it into a sling and use it to fling whatever is to hand. Astonishingly, this weapon appears to be the most reliable.
Magic
Binding Magic (Minor) ~ Šimaž - A small ratty cord of straw-woven rope round Lev's neck acts as a focus for this magic, and it allows Lev to magically bind/stick two objects together. The binding is weak, and only lasts as long as Lev is within range. It cannot affect living flesh. Ex. Sticking a door shut, pinning small objects to the wall, sticking a sword in its sheath.
Minor Illusions - Lev's focus for this magic is a small glyph tattoo behind his ear, made in black ink, which if asked, Lev will lie in explaining that it is a birthmark. Though this kind of magic requires no activating command, its use is limited. The magic can produce; auditory, visual, tactile, and olfactory illusions. These illusions can affect one target, and cannot be broken by the target's own abilities, but rather by Lev or an outside force. Furthermore, the success or failure of an illusion is dependent on how likely the target would perceive the illusion to be. Specifically, Lev will know the illusion has failed based solely on the person's reaction, as he can't see his own illusions, and the magic acts as a power of suggestion, increasing the sense of what the target already believes, suspects, or expects will be there.
Other
Important Possessions:
The King's Mantle - A tattered cloak with myriad pieces of fabric sewn together, though the cloak itself is constantly falling apart. In what remains of the original cloak, two curiosities; dozens of pockets stuffed with odds and ends by Lev, as much to practice sewing as to store items of interest, and a half-burnt crest of the Tažn family, sewn on at his breast.
The King's Chronicle - Accompanying Lev wherever he goes is an (initially) blank book, and a small case with quill and ink, which are among the possessions he maintains and cares for the most. Within the book he possesses at any given time, he will write a person's story, and when he is finished, he gifts the individual with their story, as seen through Lev's eyes. He then "procures" another book as soon as possible. It's a relatively new tradition, but already Lev has written up the stories of several individuals.
The King's Sewing Kit - Lev also carries with him an elaborate kit of needles, thread, and pins to use when repairing his cloak, binding a new book (with stolen leather and paper naturally), or even (though he has the least experience with this) sewing shut a wound.
Post Example
"Have I ever told you that I'm a King?"
"You've told us that load of shit twelve times Lev! Leave off with it already," the barman, Eldon, said with a scowl. Lev for his part, grinned into his tankard, the same twisted smile that he'd worn the last twelve times his question had been answered only with scorn and disbelief.
The last heir of the Tažn family title sat in this little tavern in the middle of nowhere, somewhere between two member-cities of the League, and drained his ale. He dropped a few coins on the bar counter, and when Eldon came over to pick up the payment, his scowl deepened. Eldon was a big man, with thick black hair and a face like a brick, but more than anything, the way his hands were scarred and calloused was suggestive of some more strenuous past he had left behind him.
"This is a half-crown more than that ale's worth. You think you can sweet-talk me into giving you free refills?"
"Hardly," Lev said, meeting Eldon's frown with calm interest. "Rather, that's a half-crown for your story, since my own half-crown doesn't seem to carry much weight around here."
Eldon rolled his eyes at that last comment, but pushed the coin back toward Lev.
"I'm a barkeep, not a bard. You pay for drinks here, not fairy tales."
"I don't want just any old story. I want your story Eldon. Oh come now, I'm leaving town tomorrow." Eldon raised an eyebrow at that announcement, leaving unsaid the fact that Lev had been saying that for a week now. The half-crown was new, and that had made the older man suspicious.
"I'll put it on your tab." Eldon finally said, pocketing the small crown and returning to the glass he had been wiping down before he had gone to take Lev's payment.
Lev sighed, scratching at his scraggly beard with disappointment. It was a shame, to grow attached to this bar and it's owner, albeit in Lev's own distant fashion, and not to gain a look into the man's soul, his story.
"There was a girl," Eldon suddenly began, giving Lev a grumpy look as his set the glass down, and picked up another. "There always seems to be, to hear others talk..."
Lev smiled, openly and genuinely this time, feeling the light chase away his darkness, and he pulled out his journal and quill.
