Viktor Lucian Crane AKA Viktor the Blackheart

Human

Male

35

He has fair skin, grey eyes, black hair, and a short, fashionable build. Were it not for present circumstances and his current outfit, Viktor would easily pass for a sheltered noble. His pale skin proof he has no need to toil in the sun, his physique healthy but unstrengthened by the labour of peasants. With his true nature out in the open and much of his wealth confiscated he wears his durable ritual robes as standard, gloves keeping his hands physicaly clean even as he metaphorically dirties them.

Viktor seems to be a polite, eloquent gentleman, friendly and harmless. Or rather he did, for that was but a facade, a mask he has little reason to wear, condemned as he is. He's ruthlessly ambitious, lies as easily as he breathes, believes himself superior to just about everyone he meets and is possessed of a cunning, schemeing mind.
He maintains a strict outward control of his emotions, coming across as calm and in control, usually.
He is ruthless, but not cruel.

Viktor is the second child of a once prosperous noble family, born nearly ten years later than his brother. His childhood on the family estate was comfortable, a solid education his only real duty, an almost idyllic upbringing. As time passed it became clear he was far smarter than his elder brother, yet it was the oldest child that would inherit the title, lands and power.
As he reached his early twenties he was encouraged to put his intellect to use as a scholar, of what his family didn't really care, he just needed to be doing something respectable that still kept him out of the way, far from any allies he could make, for it was clear who he thought should be inheriting. Ever thirsting for power, it was the study of magic he pursued, this eventually led him to finding a short treatise on the summoning of demons, hidden in a seemingly dull book on the history of magical diagrams (he would later realise this was far from a standard inclusion, clearly whoever bound this copy intended to surreptitiously pass on this forbidden knowledge).
In the dead of night with circles of blood and silver, he called forth a middling demon by the name of Izgath, though no payment exchanged hands that night, a bargain was struck, Viktor would receive knowledge of dark and forbidden magic in return for each sacrifice he made, he need simply include one of Izgath's personal runes in an appropriate sacrificial diagram.
A plan was easily hatched, gold changed hands and a few criminals 'escaped' from the nearest prison, Viktor was nothing if not efficient, their souls were traded to Izgath, their blood painted ritual diagrams and their corpses made for obedient, tireless minions.
A few years past, his power growing slowly with each victim. Eventually his parents die, at this point he is far from home and between the time news takes to find him and his own travel, his brother has had months to establish himself. The estate is in notably poorer condition, the locals he greets, not realise quite who he is, reveal a rather poor opinion of their new liege, for his brother has expensive tastes and little interest in his people.
A few nights of planning, a further few of negotiating and Viktor has his twisted plan. He places a subtle withering curse upon his brother, taking advantage of their shared blood, then he simply waits a few days and returns home to 'help his dear brother in this difficult time'. Izgath's rune is carved on the outside of each wall of his brother's room, then concealed with a little rearranging of furniture, passed off as just the brother-regent getting comfortable, a complex diagram in the basement to tie it all together. Viktor's brother dies, Izgath gets a new soul, and Viktor claims his title at last.
The plan goes off without a hitch, Viktor actually rules well, he's well liked, the family coffers (now really just his) grow under his leadership, the roads are safe and noone asks what happens to bandits.
Alas it could not last. A bandit summarily executed by ritual saacrifice was apparently related to the king, classic tale of less than chivalrous knights out of work causing trouble, of course Viktor was well within his right to execute him, it's when they find his skeleton standing at attention in the depths of the family crypt, unholy sigils visible on his skull that causes a problem.
In for a fiefdom, in for the crown, as they say, Viktor makes a stand, refusing to come quietly, certain that torture and the pyre await him. It goes well at first, he doesn't have much in the way of minions, less than a dozen basic skeletons, but his magic is powerful, flesh rending battle curses, blighted fogs and hellfire massacre the initial response, but it seems word got out and the next morning he wakes up in chains with Her looking down upon him with a gaze more terrifying, more inhuman, than any demon he's ever met, for a moment he thought maybe the pyre wouldn't have been so bad. He never did find out who let the King's men in, though he doubts any of his knights could really have stopped them, so it's not a matter he dwells upon. Of course when the 'offer' was made, that thought was soon gone.

• He's well educated in topics such as history, politics, etiquette, literature and generally whatever you'd expect an intelligent noble to learn in this setting. (Probably need to say what that would cover if accepted)
• He's well practiced in the art of summoning demons, usually binding them in circles to bargain.
• Basic necromancy, one of the earliest pieces of dark lore he bargained for was the skill to animate corpses, though he never pursued this particular art much further,.
• He can cast curses on people, bring ill fortune, slow death, weakness and such.
• He has bargained for much magical knowledge, he knows how to call forth blasts of cursed hellfire, rend a man's flesh from his bones or sap the strength from a whole squadron of soldiers.
• Sigils of Sacrifice, he has an ongoing deal with the demon Izgath, granting him the ability to incorporate one of the creature's personal runes into much of the magic he has learned, condemning their victims' souls and furthering his own bargain.

He's arrogant, prideful and power hungry. He rarely considers the possibility of being wrong, making mistakes or being outwitted. Despite thinking himself the manipulative one, he's easily lured by promises of power.
Physically he's very much just a man and he never picked up much defensive magic.

Viktor has little in the way of equipment.
The one item of note are his set of ritual robes (with gloves and hood), though beyond the fact they're unusually durable, more like leather than simple cloth and keeping him cleaner than expected, they don't seem to have any other abilities, though they bear some sigils of unknown purpose, Viktor bartered them from a demon, asking for something that would keep him "clean and safe" while practicing his fell sorcery, three condemned men were given to the creature alive as payment.

Whatever

Brorin Foul

Plagueborn Human

Male

28

This young man is in his late 20's, and has striking eyes, one a piercing brown and one an empty gaping eye socket. His black-and-white hair is cut short and unkempt. He is tall and pale from his banishment, but almost half of his body is heavily scarred, pitted, and discolored a greenish gray, all the way up to the left side of his face. He wears dark robes as a warning to others, and a half-face mask with a mirror-like sheen which covers his 'regular' skin and leaves his plagued side exposed for all to see. Due to his weakened physique on one side, he often walks wearing a cane.

Brorin is standoffish, but not in a shy or reluctant manner. He stands fast and has fully accepted his monstrous appearance, and uses it without remorse to intimidate and keep others at bay. He chooses to mostly associate himself with people that are like him - different, downtrodden, diseased. He views the world through one core principle: that everything has an equal and opposite reaction. Everything that lives, dies. Everything that thrives, withers. Everything that is beautiful, will become disfigured. And he has no qualms helping this along when it suits him, but he does seem to have a strange sense of etiquette or rules about this. Still, every now and again he has outbursts in which he seems... not fully himself. After these, he often scourges himself, but whether this is truly for penitance, even he himself hasn't figured out yet.

Brorin is a Plagueborn, a human born to parents during a time of great plagues. Brorin survived, but with one side of his body permanently scarred, and with a ragged, impotent breath. He doesn't know what happened to his parents, all he knows is that they gave him up to the mercy of the church. There he learnt The Holy Law via tutelage by the whip, and was put on tasks befitting to one of his nature: corpse cleaner, grave digger, rat catcher. He met other Plagued on the streets during this time, and offered them the Law's solace, according to his own interpretation. In time, he got to know most of them, and knew he could count on them whenever he needed help. The other wards quickly awarded him the surname he lacked before: Brorin "Foul". Their whispers, the condescension in the priests' voices, the envy of their normalcy stirred parts of his heart he'd try to bury, but strange whispers started calling in his sleep. Swarming voices that spoke to his insecurities, his jealousy, his grudges. And one day he gave in. Even to this day he doesn't know exactly what came over him besides the short flashes of remembrance he has every now and again, but he does know that when it was done, the church had gone up in flames. He was cuffed before long and cast into the banishment of the Maw to suffer his own chosen path. Though life in the Maw proved hard and filled with suffering, he was quickly welcomed by others like him, others who somehow knew of his title. The Foul Gang was born, and though small, they managed to carve out a small territory for themselves which they held with a fierce, some would say ruthless, devotion.

Brorin has a high resistance to poison and illness due to his Plagueborn nature, as well as a high pain tolerance, to the point of near-feelinglessness on his plague-affected side. Any tissues on his plagued side can also be quickly regenerated when injured. Furthermore, his Plagueborn tissues secrete a strange miasma, which he is able to release through the pores of his plague-affected side and which can take several different effects, from temporary poisoning or paralyzing an enemy who comes into contact with his skin, to attracting and controlling insects using pheromone-like fumes. He and other Plagueborn often share an immediate solidarity, a stark contrast between non-Plagueborn, who are quick to shun and avoid him due to his monstrous appearance. He has an intimate knowledge of the Book of The Holy Law, as well as basic knowledge of alchemy and medicine from his tutelage in the church.

Due to his impotent breath, he is bad at tasks requiring high amounts of stamina. He is quick to judge others, and has a habit of isolating himself. Every now and again he has strange outbursts in which he seems not fully himself. When faced truly on his own, he is rather frail and weak.

Brorin owns a horn-carved sword-cane, a scourging whip, and a ragged copy of the Book of the Holy Law. He wears dark robes, and a half-face mask with a mirror-sheen.

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