Morgan was sitting on a branch of a soaked oak tree, staring up at the bloated sky and clouds that blanketed it like a thick, wool comforter. "Ah, where's the moon when you need it?" Morgan said, his elvish accent ran thicker with every spoken word. "It seems that the moon will not be joining me tonight, instead the earth has graced me with it's tears. I love the moon." He said, babbling out loud to himself. What would anyone want do with the "curse-bearer" or "demon spawn". He scoffed as he got down from the branch, landing on the ground with the dullest of thuds. 

He was rather tall, like most of his kin, and his skin was a pale as freshly laid snow. He was from the north, after all. His intense violet eyes glowed brightly, poking through the thick veil of rain, mist, and fog that seemed to always roll in at night. He began a slow pace back to the nearest village, about a fifteen minute walk. His hand instinctually ran down to the pommel of his longsword which was sheathed at his hip. As he walked, his long, wild locks of raven hair bounced up and down with every step he made. Surprisingly, he didn't even make any sound. His grey trench coat was open, revealing a long thick pattern of dull, pink scars, painted out in a bizarre pattern. He was dressed simply, just a pair of black linen pants and leather boots. Just enough to get by. 

"[i]Crackkkk![/i]

He immediately drew his sword and started to run towards the village. The was no lighting...only thunder. The sound of creeping darkness, slinking it's sinister way towards the village full of ignorant, innocent people who lived their lives on the basis of fear and loathing. As terrible as he was treated, no one deserved to be eaten alive by demons not of this dimension. He looked up, and he couldn't even see the clouds, let alone four feet in front of him. He broke off in an inhuman pace towards the torchlight. When he arrived, he saw demons of all kinds, incubi, succubi, and all kinds of foul spawn of the darkness trying to break into people's houses for their souls and their flesh. "By the gods, run! Run as far as you can! You will be no more if you don't!" He said, slipping a wand out of his sleeve and quickly charging up a bolt of energy that crackled out towards the nearest demon, splattering him up against the wall, leaving a cavern in his chest. He danced his way through the crowd of thirty or so demons, slicing and stabbing, all the while launching spells. After he was done, and the evil dissipated, he poked his head through the building and saw a...knight of some sort, fighting off demons. 

"Who goes there?" Morgan spoke out, curious to see if this knight would be hostile or not. They all were, for the most part.