Cario's bloody lips opened to speak, just as the spell caster sent a burning heat his way. His head flew back and his arms were thrown wide as he screamed in shock, his neck twisting back as his spine tingled, steam and the smell of burnt flesh began to seep out from between his scales. In his shock his sword clattered to the ground, sparks flying as it pinged off the rocky surface to his feet. Composing himself he snapped his neck back and opened his eyes with a wider grin than before, the cut on his jaw was pulled wider.

His eyes were red and blood dripped from them too now, red tears streaking his face. Black and crimson hung around his neck in a necklace of burnt skin, still he grinned brightly. Looking at his hand, he laughed and shook it as one does when they burn their hand, then he presented to the druid and the others mockingly.

[color=998899]"Ouch."[/color]

Dropping his hand to his side once more, he bent down to pick up his sword, taking the still hot hilt in his singed fingers he gripped it tightly. As he straightened up he took something from his pocket and held it in his free hand. He patted himself down, flicking a crisped flake of skin from his shoulder. It seemed he was uncomfortable, so he stretched back and unbuckled his chest armour, letting it drop to the floor in a clattering crescendo.

Perhaps now they would see. His slender but none the less strong body was burnt, every inch of it below the neck. Charred like over cooked meat, strips of skin peeling at the edges and fleshy blots here and there. Though it was not that that defined him, it was his tattoos. From his chest to his wrists and hips he was decorated in ancient and intricate demonic symbols. For any with knowledge of the Gods, they would see one symbol repeated throughout - Nerull, The Foe Reaper, The Dark Blade, The God of Death.

With a whip of his hand Cario threw forth a twisting dark bolt of energy at the now warded druid, the source of this power coming from the Black Seed that was clenched in his fist. His bodies burning flesh began to blacken further, his blood loosing its colour and his tattoos glowed a deep red.

[color=000000]"I AM THE SERVANT OF MY DARK LORD!"[/color]

Nerull was the God that God's feared, the curse that plagued every nation. To a druid he was the personified enemy of life itself, to a monk he was something to fear intensely. Cario was indeed a blade smith, but he did not sell his goods without hidden purpose. Every blade he made was made to kill, embedded with Nerull's essence, it would take a strong mind to withstand his influence once they held the weapon in hand.

Every death at the hands of such weapons was a spirit forced to serve the Death God, Cario was a slave driver of sorts, a servant that Nerull had granted powers beyond those of a mortal drow.