Hidden 9 yrs ago 8 yrs ago Post by Guilty Spark
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Guilty Spark A Relic of the Past

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Essentially, I made this character for an RP that required one of the players to take on the role of an Overlord. The GM loved my application, but the RP didn't survive far beyond his awakening so I have never seen him fully realized.

Edit: Updated for an RP that failed just as quickly.

N A M E / A L I A S



"In all the Archives of Xaxus there exists but one sketch of the mythical hero and villain known as Balor, it is said to have been made by the knight and historian Halforth Wells, who witnessed Balor's passing in the Fields of Imrathir. The sketch remains unfinished because remembering that day drove Sir Wells to his death."
-Excerpt from Chronicles of a Lost Era, by Royal Scholar Fordis Aerius


A G E O F L E G E N D
35,000

M Y T H O L O G Y

"Balor's legend is a cautionary tale of the fallibility of man, and the consequences of hubris. If the legend is true, it was a lamentable end to a great and noble hero. If it was true." - Lord Archivist Castigan Madaris

"Some called it hubris, I call it... destiny." - Balor, the Usurper


“Millenia ago, in the ancient kingdom of Utheria, a realm that has long since fallen to ruin, a hero of great virtue was born in a time of unrelenting strife for the southernmost kingdoms of Ansus. That era had suffered a dearth of the great heroes who arose in the ages before and since, and in that absence a festering evil was given room to flourish. Not a conscious thing, at first, merely an environment in which dark creatures were birthed or awoken, and practitioners of black magic escaped reproach. For decades, the disease grew worse and worse, until Oraum, God of Purity, gave answer.

“Balor was a son of the Priesthood, an orphan as it were, and in the kingdom of Utheria such children were trained to serve the light if no family could be found for them, as Oraum decreed. Though his father was unknown to the priests, he was clearly a man of great stature as the boy grew fast and tall with broad shoulders and a commanding posture. He seemed to fall into leadership ignorant of what he was doing, with the children of the temple hanging on his every word. The priests watched him, bringing tutors to teach him the skills he would need. Though he did not know why he was being trained, he took to sword and shield naturally, and wore armor as if he was born for war. It was clear to the priests that his destiny was being shaped.

“As the boy became a man, he was assigned to escort men of the church and perform other holy tasks. His heart was good and just and his will was strong, so the forces of darkness were a natural enemy to him and he struck at them with fervor as his true calling came into view. These first quests captured his spirit, and began to earn him renown. Over time, and through battle, he honed his skills and Oraum looked favorably on him. The priests taught him more of their ways, confident that he was indeed worthy of their secrets, and the powers of Oraum became his to bring forth. Soon the people of Utheria knew his name, and children looked up to cheer at his passing. The wave of chaos receded from his presence, and Utheria became a holy bastion against the dark era, but the flight of evil simply brought more chaos to other lands.

“With that realization before him, Balor brought a plan to the church. He would lead paladins and missionaries across the borders to the less fortunate and mighty kingdoms of man, and spread Oraum’s light to those living in fear of darkness. Why grow content with the peace they had achieved when they could cleanse the evil in an ever broadening circle? The silent crusade quickly began as priests and warriors of light were dispatched across the kingdoms of men. Although Kings and Lords were affronted at the invasion of their territory, the common folk praised Balor for defending them against the forces of darkness and peasants flocked to the worship of Oraum. All was going according to his, and by extension Oraum’s, designs.

“Success after success carried Balor through the ranks of paladins, gaining him great favor in the eyes of Oraum. The priests rewarded Balor’s deed with a relic of the church reserved for Oraum’s Mortal Sword, his most valued paladin. Salvation, a blade that was said to consume sin from those it slew and grant them a respite in the afterlife from the wickedness born in their hearts. It was a great honor, and the forces of evil were in disarray as their greatest champions fell before Balor's might, destroyed beyond resurrection with the power of his holy blade. The beginnings of true peace from evil began to settle over the lands of men, but further south over the waters rumors of a festering darkness came to the ears of the mighty Balor, who now held the ears of all of Oraum's servants. To destroy this darkness, once and for all, he rallied the Paladins as the spearhead for the forces of light, and on his march other banners rose behind him.

"What started off as simply the forces of the church became a mighty host before they reached the coasts, a force too large for their ships. From here the Paladins continued along to the isles that were taken with darkness, to purge the evil from this land. The hosts of light rallied behind them to march in should they fail, or defend from the onslaught of darkness. However, the fell sorcerers and servant of the shadow convened to bring forth a terrible being. In the dark they poured their magics into this sinister creation, gambling everything on what they hoped would cripple the forces of light. Soon, even as Balor sailed, a new entity was born. The Beast, they called it, and named it their Lord. It bore a sinister mask that hid whatever hideous visage lay beneath, and was clad in armors forged of black metal. This thing they called M'Harat the Devourer for he was to consume the light.

"What magics the sorcerers had left were insufficient to sink the fleet of paladins, and all of their attacks from afar were rebuffed by the power of Oraum. When Balor landed on the island's coast they were assaulted by more primitive creatures of darkness, the undead, ogres, trolls, and fell things unknown in the tongues of man. These the paladins cut through in a storm of holy fire, though they suffered great losses as well. It was when Balor broke through to the keep that he first encountered M'Harat, a being of greater evil than he had ever faced. Most creatures of darkness that came up against him quaked in terror, but as he faced down this masked monstrosity Salvation quivered in his hands.

"The battle between Balor and M'Harat was titanic, and in the wake of the powers they unleashed dark creatures and paladins were corrupted and destroyed without discrimination. With their might they cut a path of destruction, their battle led the up the mountainside, smiting towers and great swathes of earth. After what seemed like days Balor smote M'Harat with a tremendous blow, and sank Salvation into his heart, pinning him against the rock. As M'Harat screeched, the blade shook and let out a wail of human pain and terror as its shimmering steel blade became acrid and black, and the hilt began to burn Balor's hands forcing him to let go. M'Harat's shuddering corpse turned to ash along with his armor, but his mask remained intact and fell amongst the refuse.

"There came a voice in Balor's head as he looked down at the lone mask. Wear me...wear me and my power will be yours...wear me and we shall reign over an empire together...wear me... Slowly, Balor lifted the mask from the ashes and, staring into its sightless eyes, he began to laugh a heartfelt laugh. Their designs were so clear and shallow, it was amusing to witness. They thought that if M'Harat could not kill him then he would become their new M'Harat? His will was far too great to sink to such depravity, his virtue was of a magnitude most considered unattainable, he was without a doubt a living saint among men. This petty temptation was supposed to break him?

"Then there came a thought into Balor's mind, a curious question he asked himself. He held all the power of the light in his hand, so what if in the other hand he held the power of darkness? With both sides of the coin could he not crush opposition to Oraum? Shredding the darkness with their own hands? There was a firm misgiving within him, a warning, but he was confident in his will. This mask would not break him as long as Oraum stood by his side, the hand of the light on his shoulder. So, he put it on. The moment the mask touched his skin he felt the presence of Oraum abandon him, all the light within him was extinguished. In this betrayal, he was nearly destroyed by the mask as it sought to snuff out his will like a roaring flame that had suddenly become a candle. Balor, even without the guidance of his master, was not so easily beat.

"For the three days the battle went on, Balor standing alone against the torrent of mindless darkness that sought to bury him. On the third day, the molten iron that was his will finally bubbled to the surface, with the power of his mind he surrounding the sentience of the mask and crushed it within himself. Destroying its mind completely and making it servile to his will. When he awoke Balor sought out the presence of Oraum, but the light would not fall on him. Now he stood in the shadows, betrayed by the one he had trusted in his time of need. He pulled Salvation from the rocks, finding it no longer burned his hand. It, like him, had been abandoned so it was only fitting that he wield it longer. When he descended from the mountain, he found that the forces of shadow were already gathering again to serve him. He understood them now. They were not evil, the light of a cruel god would no longer shine on them for he feared their power.

"He had served Oraum for decades, only to be cast away like a soiled tool. Angered by that betrayal, he decided that the Gods had no business in the affairs of mortals, and set out to bring an end to their interference through war. He gathered the forces of darkness to him, and turned his eyes back to the lands of man. There he knew the Hosts of Oraum still stood a solemn vigil, awaiting the building of the ships they needed to assail him, leaving Utheria undefended following the destruction of his loyal paladins. More tools abused by Oraum. Manning the ships his army had sailed to the isle with his new servants, the changed Balor sailed for the rivers leading into the heart of Utheria, to the capital city of Inodris itself. In a reign of fire and death, Balor's forces sacked the city. They desecrated the temples of Oraum, and brought the people to their knees to serve their hero. By the time the Hosts of light discovered what had happened, Balor was burning a swath through the nations.

"Balor's might dominated every battlefield he entered, the priests could not stand against him and his new found mastery of the shadows. For a year of chaos and blood he ravaged the lands, however, as his territory grew in scope he could no longer manage every front. The forces of good began winning when he was occupied by other battles, cutting his lines and routing whole armies that had no skilled generals. Finally, they began to gather their diminished hosts of light once more, on the Fields of Imrathir for a final battle. The masses of men and fell creatures were titanic as they swarmed against each other, even in their diminished might there were forces among the men which had not made themselves known when the Hosts of Light first marched with Balor. Foreign armies which feared his advance towards the Bastion of Light, and holy creatures which served Oraum.

"While Balor fought here, a second host cut through to Inodris and freed the slaves there, recruiting them into their forces. They had tricked Balor, and at terrible cost, by gathering their men in one area they convinced him their entire host had come against him and he committed the full forces of darkness to the battle, but by the time the trickery was discovered it was too late. Balor was surrounded, and with their combined might priests and mages overwhelmed Balor, sealing him within a prison of his own creation, M'Harat's mask."


A P P E A R A N C E
"No images from his life as a hero are known to remain, but according to ancient descriptions Balor was tall and broad of shoulder, his dark hair fell to his shoulders and he favored a thick beard. His pale blue eyes were said to draw the gaze of others, and hold them fast as he spoke. Of course, after his fall he was never seen without his mask again." - -Excerpt from Chronicles of a Lost Era, by Royal Scholar Fordis Aerius

A B I L I T I E S / E Q U I P M E N T
The most renowned of Balor's ancient relics is the Mask of M'Harat, which grants its wielder tremendous dark power. It is bound to him, and it's destruction equals his own. Simple in his designs, Balor turned most of its power towards pyromancy, washing away his enemies with a sea of flame. The mask also rebuffs magic, shielding him from anything less than a concerted effort at his destruction.

The second of Balor's greatest tools is Salvation's Bane, a once holy sword whose powers were reversed during the slaying of M'Harat. It is now a blackened bastard sword that denies virtue to those slain by its dark magic. Falling to its blade will cast one's soul into Oblivion, extinguishing it forevermore.

The third, and least known, of Balor's tools is the Mantle of Demons. This was a piece of armor worn over Balor's shoulders which penetrated the veil between realms and allowed him to summon forth powerful beings of evil. There are few references to how he acquired such an artifact, but the most valid comes from the last works of Sir Halforth Wells, which reference a cult that supposedly delivered the relic to him. It was separated from his remains after his defeat, just as his sword was, and is thought to have been destroyed.


S O N G


Hidden 8 yrs ago 8 yrs ago Post by Guilty Spark
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Guilty Spark A Relic of the Past

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Not a very rich character, yet, but it's my first time voicing my character.

Edit: That's a shame, my audio expired.






Name: "My name is Athalzerus 'Iron-Blood'."

Race: "Some call my people demons, and they are not far wrong, but the Hekurians do not dwell in the hells. We live beneath the skin of the world, in the great cities hewn from living rock. There, we can feed on the purest veins of iron. A Hekurian can live a great deal of time without food, but without veins of iron nearby we cannot live together. If you have any questions, ask and I may answer."

Age: "I was born thirty and seven summers ago, though my people live far longer. Among them, I am young and rash."

Appearance: "I am exactly as you see me. Taller than any human, born from living rock, and burning hot to the touch. My eyes are molten pits, and my hair is a corona of flames."

Skills:

Background: "I am a traveler, a rare thing among my people. I spent my first decades as a kovac, a weapon smith, spilling my blood night and day to arm the warriors of the Kryesor and to line his coffers. I grew weary of that burden, and forsook my place of honor to travel the surface. I discovered the value of my might to human lords, and sold them the strength of my arm. Perhaps I exchanged one cage for another? If that's so, then I prefer this cage. Its only bars are the sky, and they are well beyond my reach.

"I am eager for this quest to be underway; the Wizard's Tower will not conquer itself."

Motto: "Nothing has impeded me; nothing will."


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