RedDusk

Knights of Evil (High Casual Fantasy Villain Group.)

Literally no one cares about your emo reaper, Riff.

Knights of Evil (High Casual Fantasy Villain Group.)

Oh, I'm sure dragonmancer will answer you at his earliest convenience.
Won't you now? @dragonmancer

Knights of Evil (High Casual Fantasy Villain Group.)

@dragonmancer I added the thingie in the thingie. Ya know, that thingie. That we talked about.

Knights of Evil (High Casual Fantasy Villain Group.)

Ah, the anticipation.

Knights of Evil (High Casual Fantasy Villain Group.)

Valen Astor

Tall and board-shouldered, Valen’s interest in swordsmanship at a young age has done wonder for his physique. His body, however, was marred by burn scars and gouges, allegedly reported to be from the fire, along with thin white tattoos that could look even metallic under certain light. They have the tendency to give out an ominous glow every time he uses his power. The brighter the glow, the closer he is to his limit.

As a nobleman, Valen does dress to impress. Nothing but finest silk and velvet adorned his person, however, he does have more practical outfits when the occasions call for it.

Enhanced Human/Possessed


22


6 feet and 196 lbs


Male


Nah.


Valen does believe in the existence of gods and demons and the likes. He just never feels the need to worship them.


Lord of Aldebaran
Diplomat

Valen was born into his position, and it shows. He is well-spoken and dignified, enough grace in his gait to set him apart from the commoners. At all times, his manners are meticulous, his appearance immaculate and perfectly fits someone of his station. When it comes to his domain, he is devoted enough to garner respect from his subjects, yet not so much that it becomes a weakness. But regardless, he treats those loyal to him well, and he shows honour to his allies and enemies alike.

But those were borrowed things, from a Valen before. The him now was something bargained. Something lost.

At his core, he was confused. There was only enough of him left to be confused. There were so many missing parts of himself, so he took what he could from Valen to fill those gaps. The more he does, the more he is, but the less he is himself. He would have been bothered, had more of him remained. The him before was ruthless. Dangerous. Volatile and ambitious. Vicious and proud and so much more. Now, the hardened edges of his personality were dulled by disuse, so he kept them beneath his skin, only calling on them when Valen isn’t enough.

Valen Astor was the fifth son of Aldebaran’s former lord. Too far down the line to expect any worthwhile inheritance, he grew up carefree and unburdened by any responsibility or ambition. Years came and went, and as his father’s domain grew, the man became increasingly obsessed with power and riches. Aldebaran had treated his family well; its abundant natural resources and favourable position was the foundation upon which the Astor’s fortune stood. Yet, the old lord wanted more. Far more than what mundane wealth and power could give him. So, the man dabbled in dark and forbidden magic, collecting twisted artefacts of unspeakable power. There was little Raegar Aster wouldn’t do for the promise of eternal life.

A ritual to bind a demon to his bloodline went off without a hitch. He sacrificed Valen for it, but it was a reasonable price in exchange for a demonic servant. What Raegar didn’t expect though, was that the demon, or whatever entity that inhabited his son, could speak. And the first thing it did was refused him. A caustic thing of magic and rage and hunger, it refused a human master. Enraged, Raegar casted a spell to trap the thing where it was. To bend its will and its knees. But something went terribly awry, and the spell splintered whatever in Valen’s body.

It broke him. He came back to his senses hours later, surrounded by Astor’s blood. He came back, but he did not come back whole. There were parts of him missing; not enough to kill him, but enough to tell him he had lost far too much and that was worse, somehow. He wanted release. He wanted his freedom. He wanted his mind back.

But Valen Astor was all he had left. All he was. The costumes were all there, so he wore it, and he wore it well.

A cover story was released, instead. A fire had broken out in the residential quarter, and it had consumed all but the fifth son. Little did they know, he set the fire himself. Valen Aster became the new lord. No one really knew what happened, save for a certain gardener. And he would like things to stay that way.

At least until all of him was back. Then this damned kingdom could burn to the ground for all he cared.

There are rumors that Valen murdered his entire bloodline for a position of power. But those were easy enough to quell, without proper proof.

Coming into Lancelot’s service was a political choice, if anything. The land was torn asunder, and as proud as his father was, the old lord was not blinded to his limitations. The man swore fealty to Lancelot, and Valen had seen it fit to retain that fealty when he came into power.

Race Description

Valen was a human, but the ritual changed him. The entity that inhabited his body gives it enhanced physical proprieties: he is stronger, faster and more durable than a regular human. The added strength is noticeable, but hardly enough for him to compete with other races famed for their strength such as orcs or beastkins. He also possesses the innate ability to detect magic when it presents nearby.

Power Description

The entity inside Valen can devour magic. This renders him immune to many types of magic, even benevolent spells. Magic cast directly on him won’t work; he will just absorb it instead. But magic cast on objects around him or on him will still work fine, even though it won’t be able to affect him directly.

Strengths/Skills/Talents

• Mark of The Dreamer
  Through a lengthy and taxing ritual, Valen can place a mark upon a person. Said person will benefit from that mark by sharing a fraction of Valen's innate magical immunity and absorption. However, all the absorbed magic will go to Valen instead of the host. Only one mark can be up at all time.
• Devourer
  Valen can consume untethered magic to power himself. Magic from a spell or magic in an enchantment; those are all fair game to him. There is a limit to how much he can absorb though. The more he does, the more his tattoos flared and heat up. Too much, and he runs the risk of boiling alive in his own skin. He also cannot store power in him for too long. Left to its own device, the strength converted from magic he devoured will just evaporate eventually.
• Guardian
  The silver lines that marred Valen’s skin could be peeled back and stretched out into a bubble , protecting all those within from physical or magical damage. Plus, any magic that hits its surface will be absorb and used to power Valen. The shield will retract after a certain amount of damage had been taken.
• Seeker
  Valen can certain detect magic around him, but his sense does more than that. Each magic is unique to him, and after he has devoured it, he can recognize the source as well as the magic itself, should he encounter it again.
• Breaker
  Along with his shield, Valen can also conjure up an invisible dampening field around him. All magic casted inside the field would be considerably less effective. He cannot use his shield and his dampening field at the same time.
• Parasite
  As mentioned above, Valen can increase his strength, endurance and stamina considerably with the absorption of magic. Additionally, he will also gain a moderate healing factor at the height of his power.
• Swordsman
  A competent fighter with his sword, though Valen prefers to partake in combat at all.

Weaknesses

• Backfire
  Magic is his drug, yet his poison. Too much of it, and he will be burnt alive by the marks of his own power.
• Cold-blooded
  Valen’s tolerance to heat is poor, to say the least. He avoids the midday sun, shuns the campfire for the majority of the time and prefers to just have embers in the fireplace in his bedchamber. Heatstroke comes easily for him, and their effects are often far more serious.

Equipment

• A simple steel sword

Star Misch

Star Misch started as a curiosity. He was not human, yet he acts like one and lives like one and will probably die like one someday. For Valen, or whoever he is, this was someone who shared his fate. But that’s it.

He doesn’t have an answer for that searching looks the fae sends his way every once in a while.

Wolves Without Teeth - "Of Monsters And Men"

Love Love Love - "Of Monsters And Men"

Knights of Evil (High Casual, Organization of Evil Monsters) (Work in Progress)

@dragonmancer Nah I don't want any power items. Keep your tricks, drag.

Knights of Evil (High Casual, Organization of Evil Monsters) (Work in Progress)

The sins on my back

Valen Astor

The Dreamer / The Southern Lord

General description

Appearance

Tall and board-shouldered, Valen’s interest in swordsmanship at a young age has done wonder for his physique. His body, however, was marred by burn scars and gouges, allegedly reported to be from the fire, along with thin white tattoos that could look even metallic under certain light. They have the tendency to give out an ominous glow every time he uses his power. The brighter the glow, the closer he is to his limit.

As a nobleman, Valen does dress to impress. Nothing but finest silk and velvet adorned his person, however, he does have more practical outfits when the occasions call for it.

Race

Enhanced Human/Possessed

Age

22

Size

6 feet and 196 lbs

Gender

Male

Sexuality

Nah.

Religion

Valen does believe in the existence of gods and demons and the likes. He just never feels the need to worship them.

Job

Lord of Aldebaran

Personality

Valen was born into his position, and it shows. He is well-spoken and dignified, enough grace in his gait to set him apart from the commoners. At all times, his manners are meticulous, his appearance immaculate and perfectly fits someone of his station. When it comes to his domain, he is devoted enough to garner respect from his subjects, yet not so much that it becomes a weakness. But regardless, he treats those loyal to him well, and he shows honour to his allies and enemies alike.

But those were borrowed things, from a Valen before. The him now was something bargained. Something lost.

At his core, he was confused. There was only enough of him left to be confused. There were so many missing parts of himself, so he took what he could from Valen to fill those gaps. The more he does, the more he is, but the less he is himself. He would have been bothered, had more of him remained. The him before was ruthless. Dangerous. Volatile and ambitious. Vicious and proud and so much more. Now, the hardened edges of his personality were dulled by disuse, so he kept them beneath his skin, only calling on them when Valen isn’t enough.

Biography

Valen Astor was the fifth son of Aldebaran’s former lord. Too far down the line to expect any worthwhile inheritance, he grew up carefree and unburdened by any responsibility or ambition. Years came and went, and as his father’s domain grew, the man became increasingly obsessed with power and riches. Aldebaran had treated his family well; its abundant natural resources and favourable position was the foundation upon which the Astor’s fortune stood. Yet, the old lord wanted more. Far more than what mundane wealth and power could give him. So, the man dabbled in dark and forbidden magic, collecting twisted artefacts of unspeakable power. There was little Raegar Aster wouldn’t do for the promise of eternal life.

A ritual to bind a demon to his bloodline went off without a hitch. He sacrificed Valen for it, but it was a reasonable price in exchange for a demonic servant. What Raegar didn’t expect though, was that the demon, or whatever entity that inhabited his son, could speak. And the first thing it did was refused him. A caustic thing of magic and rage and hunger, it refused a human master. Enraged, Raegar casted a spell to trap the thing where it was. To bend its will and its knees. But something went terribly awry, and the spell splintered whatever in Valen’s body.

It broke him. He came back to his senses hours later, surrounded by Astor’s blood. He came back, but he did not come back whole. There were parts of him missing; not enough to kill him, but enough to tell him he had lost far too much and that was worse, somehow. He wanted release. He wanted his freedom. He wanted his mind back.

But Valen Astor was all he had left. All he was. The costumes were all there, so he wore it, and he wore it well.

A cover story was released, instead. A fire had broken out in the residential quarter, and it had consumed all but the fifth son. Little did they know, he set the fire himself. Valen Aster became the new lord. No one really knew what happened, save for a certain gardener. And he would like things to stay that way.

At least until all of him was back. Then this damned kingdom could burn to the ground for all he cared.

There are rumors that Valen murdered his entire bloodline for a position of power. But those were easy enough to quell, without proper proof.

Coming into Lancelot’s service was a political choice, if anything. The land was torn asunder, and as proud as his father was, the old lord was not blinded to his limitations. The man swore fealty to Lancelot, and Valen had seen it fit to retain that fealty when he came into power.

Traits and Equipment

Race Description

Valen was a human, but the ritual changed him. The entity that inhabited his body gives it enhanced physical proprieties: he is stronger, faster and more durable than a regular human. The added strength is noticeable, but hardly enough for him to compete with other races famed for their strength such as orcs or beastkins. He also possesses the innate ability to detect magic when it presents nearby.

Power Description

The entity inside Valen can devour magic. This renders him immune to many types of magic, even benevolent spells. Magic cast directly on him won’t work; he will just absorb it instead. But magic cast on objects around him or on him will still work fine, even though it won’t be able to affect him directly.

Strengths/Skills/Talents

• Devourer
  Valen can consume untethered magic to power himself. Magic from a spell or magic in an enchantment; those are all fair game to him. There is a limit to how much he can absorb though. The more he does, the more his tattoos flared and heat up. Too much, and he runs the risk of boiling alive in his own skin. He also cannot store power in him for too long. Left to its own device, the strength converted from magic he devoured will just evaporate eventually.
• Guardian
  The silver lines that marred Valen’s skin could be peeled back and stretched out into a bubble , protecting all those within from physical or magical damage. Plus, any magic that hits its surface will be absorb and used to power Valen. The shield will retract after a certain amount of damage had been taken.
• Seeker
  Valen can certain detect magic around him, but his sense does more than that. Each magic is unique to him, and after he has devoured it, he can recognize the source as well as the magic itself, should he encounter it again.
• Breaker
  Along with his shield, Valen can also conjure up an invisible dampening field around him. All magic casted inside the field would be considerably less effective. He cannot use his shield and his dampening field at the same time.
• Parasite
  As mentioned above, Valen can increase his strength, endurance and stamina considerably with the absorption of magic. Additionally, he will also gain a moderate healing factor at the height of his power.
• Swordsman
  A competent fighter with his sword, though Valen prefers to partake in combat at all.

Weaknesses

• Backfire
  Magic is his drug, yet his poison. Too much of it, and he will be burnt alive by the marks of his own power.
• Cold-blooded
  Valen’s tolerance to heat is poor, to say the least. He avoids the midday sun, shuns the campfire for the majority of the time and prefers to just have embers in the fireplace in his bedchamber. Heatstroke comes easily for him, and their effects are often far more serious.

Equipment

• A simple steel sword

Relationships

Valen Astor

Star Misch started as a curiosity. He was not human, yet he acts like one and lives like one and will probably die like one someday. For Valen, or whoever he is, this was someone who shared his fate. But that’s it.

He doesn’t have an answer for that searching looks the fae sends his way every once in a while.

Other

Wolves Without Teeth - "Of Monsters And Men"

Love Love Love - "Of Monsters And Men"

Give it to me.

—(••[ 𝕎𝕀𝕊ℍ𝔼𝔸𝕋𝔼ℝ ]••)—

Sander | Christmas

_{Collab with [Danny]}

---

𝕊𝕦𝕟: 𝕊𝕖𝕡𝕥. 𝟚𝟘, 𝟚𝟘𝟚𝟘 / / 𝕎𝕒𝕤𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕥𝕠𝕟, 𝔻.ℂ. / / ℝ𝕠𝕪𝕒𝕝 ℙ𝕖𝕟𝕥𝕙𝕠𝕦𝕤𝕖 𝕊𝕦𝕚𝕥𝕖 / / ~𝟙𝟚𝟘𝟘

---

Christmas couldn’t remember ever feeling like he both was and wasn’t present in this way. Pain stabbed out his breath and voice and the dampness around him was a sure sign that everything would be over soon. But he felt like he was nowhere and going further away. It hurt and if he was screaming, he couldn’t hear, but everything was surely fading away into the pain and the nothing and Christmas wondered, as tears drained slowly from his eyes, if he had the strength to stay even now. Maybe it would be easier to go; run from the overwhelming world. Be in that “nowhere” that was the only place he belonged. Dust and sky blanketed his vision and Christmas waited for the wind to take his breaths away.

Once his wounds were healed, Sander blinked in surprise, but didn’t look up. He already knew who. Instead, he quickly looked over at Christmas, because his roommate required more attention. There was just so much blood. His hands hovered, shaking. The voice above urged him to remove the protruding bars, but Sander didn’t know if he could. Didn’t know how.

All the while, the Craving stirred in the back of his mind. He still needed its strength.

His hands quickly absorbed the pooling blood around the blond boy, fueling the power of his high and sparking to life the healing mist around his and Christmas’s torsos, though one no longer needed healing and the other couldn’t be healed through that power. Once that was accomplished, Sander turned back to Christmas, breaths shallow and eyes wide.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” -He mumbled, words jumbled and slurred together, but his hands had grown steady. He gripped the jagged end of the metal bar in Christmas’ leg first -”Forgive me.” -As the last word left his lips, Sander pulled.

The healer jerked with the motion, screams little more than keening gasps from the onslaught of pain and shock. He stared at nothing, pain blinding him to all but the most basic recognitions.

“I’m sorry. J-Just one more. They will heal you.” -More desperate mumbles as Sander’s hand closed around the metal bar sticking out from Christmas’ lower torso. His free hand reached up to brush against the blond boy’s cheek, the touch feather-light -”You’ll be alright. I promise.”

If Christmas noticed the touch, it didn’t show on his face, pale and gasping for breath with eyes wide and blank. But his arm fumbled mindlessly after the brief contact before falling still again.

Sander quietly yanked the stray piece of metal out this time, hand quickly pressed against the gaping wound as soon as he did to slow the bleeding. Yet, warmth still seeped between his fingers, and the Craving suddenly spiked, becoming far too much. Sander held his breath and turned to look at the balcony above, waiting.

—(••[ 𝕎𝕀𝕊ℍ𝔼𝔸𝕋𝔼ℝ ]••)—

---

𝕊𝕦𝕟: 𝕊𝕖𝕡𝕥. 𝟚𝟘, 𝟚𝟘𝟚𝟘 / / 𝕎𝕒𝕤𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕥𝕠𝕟, 𝔻.ℂ. / / ℝ𝕠𝕪𝕒𝕝 ℙ𝕖𝕟𝕥𝕙𝕠𝕦𝕤𝕖 𝕊𝕦𝕚𝕥𝕖 / / ~𝟙𝟚𝟘𝟘

---

Peaceful days passed like the eye of a storm, and little did Sander know, he was far too unprepared to weather its devastating force.

First was the burning grip on their marks. Then something exploded. Collapsed. Shattered. Sander didn’t know. Couldn’t check, because guards were already herding them into the living room and issuing orders.

Then everything went to hell. Sander didn’t notice much else as the floor shook, hurling him onto shattered glass and jagged metal. Pain spread across his body, both from the impact and the bite of sharp debris. It left him breathless, and it took a couple of minutes for him to finally recover. He climbed to his feet as soon as he did, the process took far longer than it should have because of the shards of glass that littered the ground.

Droplets of red entered his vision. His. He knew by scent. But he turned his head to the left, and there was more red. Tempting. Too much, and not his. Then another scent hit him. Familiar. Too familiar. And too much as well.

Christmas.

His chest constricted, his lungs were starving air even when his breaths grew rapid.

Quick steps took him closer to the source, but all he found was a broken off balcony. He peered over the edge.

All he saw was blood. There was too much of it, pooling beneath the broken body. He could still see the ribbon. How it was all soaked in red.

With neither hesitation nor thought, Sander took a leap off the balcony. Wind rushed pass him as he fell, and he landed hard. More pain in his legs as they collapsed beneath him, sending his face toward the ground. Instinctively, he braced himself on both of his arms, only for something to snap in his left wrist.

He fell sideway, breathless and dazed from the pain. His mind remained lucid though, enough to know that jumping off a balcony was a terrible idea. But he couldn’t really care, because Christmas was right there, bleeding out and dying.

He couldn’t let that happen. He couldn’t, yet at the same time, he didn’t know what to do, besides what he had always done: charging in. Without the bloodhigh, Sander was painfully aware of his own mortality. But that didn’t stop him from jumping. Didn’t stop him from pushing himself up on his good hand and knees, ignoring the protest of his injuries as he dragged himself to Christmas’ side.

—(••[ 𝕎𝕀𝕊ℍ𝔼𝔸𝕋𝔼ℝ ]••)—

Sander | Christmas

_{Collab with [Danny]}

Scent: Savour

𝕊𝕒𝕥𝕦𝕣𝕕𝕒𝕪: 𝕊𝕖𝕡𝕥. 𝟙𝟡, 𝟚𝟘𝟚𝟘 / / 𝕎𝕒𝕤𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕥𝕠𝕟, 𝔻.ℂ. / / ℝ𝕠𝕪𝕒𝕝 ℙ𝕖𝕟𝕥𝕙𝕠𝕦𝕤𝕖 𝕊𝕦𝕚𝕥𝕖 / / ~~𝟚𝟛𝟜𝟘

Sander staggered down the long hall way, squinting at the doors and half hoping he was in the right penthouse. He hadn’t encountered another screaming regular for a few minutes now, so he assumed he must be in the right place. Fortunately, he was, and he found the door of his shared room easily enough.

Opening it proved to be a bit more difficult, as both of his hands were stained with a deep shade of red, and he didn’t want to get it on anywhere. Eventually, his fumbling with the doorknob ended and Sander let himself in, still trailing droplets of red on the carpet.

Head wounds always bled quite profusely.

His roommate was sitting on the bed then, hands occupied with a braid of colourful ribbons. There were colors in his hair, too, and Sander tried to pick out which as he stumbled closer.

Christmas turned as the door’s click announced either a soldier, one of the other students, or the only student he honestly cared about—as selfish as that sounded. He paled and froze at the sight of Sander bleeding, mouth opening and closing soundlessly as the trembling set in again. His knife had disappeared after the Wisford fight, and he didn’t see anything sharp in the immediate vicinity. The wound on his neck had closed up properly by now, but his hand dropped its braid of ribbons and flew to the clumsy bandages there anyway, scrabbling to unravel his amateur attempts at keeping the injury wrapped until it was entirely healed.

Sander understood what the blond boy was trying to do, and he was quick to intercept. His hands flew up to grab Christmas’, just as he leaned against the bed, bracing one knee on the matress. However, a few stray drops of blood fell, staining the white bedsheet.

“Fu—Sorry.” -Sander muttered in frustration, before turning his attention back to Christmas –“Hey. It’s fine. I’m fine. Calm down.”

”B-bleeding,” the small boy stammered, hands still trying to pull at the bandages. He was breathing too quickly now, the sight of head gashes so close pushing him to hurry and do something, but his hands didn’t have the strength to break free of Sander’s grip.

“It’s fine. Really. Just…I’ll heal. I’m sorry.” -Sander assured. At least, tried to, but that seemed to be futile in the face of his roommate’s building panic.

So he didn’t really think when he leaned down and pressed his lips against Christmas’.

It calmed him down last time, didn’t it?

The trembling only seemed to worsen, and Christmas’s hands curled and uncurled their fingers uselessly, trying to heal Sander, but also agitated by the display of affection—or something like it.

A muffled sound of worry petered away in the healer’s throat, but he managed to stumble through the word ”H-heal” around the obstacle of Sander’s mouth.

Sander leaned back, titling his head in confusion when Christmas only appeared to be more panicked. So he tried again with another sloppy kiss, and another, then another one.

“I’m fine. Calm down.” -He mumbled into the kisses, hands leaving Christmas’ hands to reach up and cradle the boy’s face instead.

Christmas blinked rapidly with each kiss, dismayed by the scent and sight of Sander’s blood still dripping easily from the jagged gouges in the pale skin. But a part of him was equally as distracted by the renewed heat every time Sander’s lips met his and the warmth of Sander’s hands around his face. With his hands free he almost reached up to Sander’s injuries, the motion a useless placebo in lieu of actually helping.

Shaking fingers settled for purchase against Sander’s shoulderblades instead, and Christmas tried to insist through pressure alone that Sander heal now, fingers digging slightly into the fabric of his roommate’s shirt.

“Better?”

”Y-you need to—to heal,” the blond insisted, near tears.

With a deep breath, Sander nodded, leaning back. He kept his gaze locked on Christmas’ though, even when his power came alive around him and engulfed both of them in a red glow. Faint warmth flooded his veins, but it was enough to provide relief to the ache in his wounds.

“I-It’s safe. I promise.” -With a sigh, Sander let his body go limp then, laying his head down in Christmas’ lap -”Won’t hurt you.”

”N-not about me—” he tried to protest, but was interrupted by Sander’s new position. From that angle Christmas had a perfect view of the wounds slowly closing and he was, once again, grateful Sander could take his blood without any pain. His hands moved to hover gently against Sander’s hair and jaw, not daring to touch until the injuries were healed. ”Need—need more?” he whispered down to Sander’s bloody face, rubbing the hem of his sweater sleeve against Sander’s chin to clean up some of the blood.

Sander had already closed his eyes then, the exhaustion was catching up to him fast. The only thing keeping him awake was the blood high, but even then, he was keeping it as weak as possible. He already made a promise to Christmas. He would keep it.

The question begged for an answer though, so Sander only shook his head.

As long as the injuries were healing, Christmas didn’t protest his quickly tiring roommate. Instead, he did his best to wipe off more of the blood with his sleeve, rubbing as gently as he could so Sander could continue sleeping. When the blood had been cleaned to an acceptable level and the wounds had finally closed, he leaned over Sander’s sleeping form, almost hugging the slow rises and falls of the broader chest.

”S-sorry,” he whispered, mostly to himself. Sander’s comforting presence resting on his lap and within easy reach for a tentative hug was too tempting and despite his apology Christmas refused to straighten up, preferring to lean as far forward as he could to cradle his resting roommate.