[center][b][i][h1]- Frequent Combatants -[/h1][/i][/b][/center] [hider=Sliske the Despised][center][img]http://dungeonsmaster.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/02/teifling.jpg[/img][/center][h3][center][color=purple]"Call me what you will, you'll be ash soon anyway!"[/color][/center][/h3] [b]Name:[/b] [indent][color=purple]Sliske [s]Arkilius[/s][/color][/indent] [b]Titles:[/b] [indent]The Despised[/indent] [b]Age:[/b] [indent]1,497[/indent] [b]Gender:[/b] [indent]Male[/indent] [b]Allegiance:[/b] [indent]Demons of Hell[/indent] [b]Race:[/b] [indent]Incubus[/indent] [b]Height:[/b] [indent]6’4” - 193cm[/indent] [b]Weight:[/b] [indent]162lbs - 73.5kg[/indent] [b]Personality:[/b] [indent]Haven given up on subjugating Hell, let alone the Nexus, Sliske abandoned his surname in favor of a title that fit how the universe saw him; a scoundrel, trickster, pest, whatever you will. He no longer lets petty words bother him, instead embracing every slur, every cuss sent his way. Rather than fight this tide and try and portray himself as noble, he's allowed the rapids of insults to overtake him and destroy his image. Then he started from the ground, rebuilding himself around the one thing he could never control: Rage. He loved his new, independent mind more than he ever did the welp that came before. Sliske Arkilius may as well be dead, Sliske the Despised has taken his place, army of amalgamations in tow.[/indent] [b]History:[/b] [indent]Sliske Arkilius, his name chosen by himself, doesn’t remember much of his childhood. And who could blame him? That was almost a millennia and a half ago. What he does recall, though, was that his mother was a succubus and his father, like him, was an incubus. In a place like Hell, that was a common pairing, two demons that could match drives often made a long-standing couple, and he was the result of that. By that logic, he was dispositioned to have an affinity for corruption as it sat, and for some reason, it came to him easier that it should’ve. Moving forward to around the time where humans began rising in power, the incubus found himself to have quite a relationship with the dark and mysterious workings of black magic. He took his time and decided to expand upon this newfound strength, quickly gaining a strong grip on these powers, all while realizing something. Why reanimate the fragile, corporeal body when you can ensnare the soul instead? A cruel thought, but it was nothing that hadn’t been done before. Many a Hellborn necromancer had taken this approach in the war that was raging, and they had failed. Sliske, though, had a different method for his procurement of malleable spirits… He approached the town in broad daylight, a small place that had gone far beyond the limits of human society in the Nexus… no one would miss the poor bastards that lived this far off the grid. He stuffed his hands into his pockets and walked right in, his tall, lanky figure drawing the attention of a large number of the dwellers. By the time he had reached a fountain in the center of town, the men and women of the place were waiting, all of them armed with pistols, shotguns, and everything in between. He raised his head from the floor and laughed to himself, showing off the sharp, white teeth that solidified his demonic impression. [color=purple]”Ladies, gentlemen, is that any way to treat your humble guest?”[/color] Ever the showman, the demon took his hands out of his pockets and raised them to the air, dark clouds forming in his palms. As the magic built up there, he turned to the side and raised several fully stocked buffet tables in the square, smiling as the poorer folk of the area dropped what weapons they had and ran for the tables, stuffing themselves. [color=purple]”I come offering peace. Hell doesn’t wish to drag you into our war, we only ask that you ready yourselves before the forces of Heaven come to slaughter and enslave you. To them, you are imperfect, fit only for the most menial and repetitive of labors.”[/color] He was lying through his teeth, and the humans of this forsaken place were buying it. One by one, they approached the tables, hesitantly tasting the offering, and diving in soon enough. [color=purple]”You may know me as Sliske, Ambassador of Hell.”[/color] The incubus disappeared into the shadows at the moment, going as quickly as he came. From that moment forward, his plan was set into action. Three years passed before he set his claim to that area, casting a form of ethereal net over the place to ensnare the souls of any and all who died. Each and every single death in his domain brought him more power, unbeknownst to those that thought highly of the demon. Soon enough, he returned to the square to the applause of the humans. He had done much for them, fed them, kept the dangers of the war far from their farms and factories, kept sickness at bay… now it was time to redeem his prize. A devious smirk graced his lips as he shot a hand into the air, the net solidified into a dome in an astounding display. The light caught his teeth as he disappeared into the shadows, removing himself from the scene and letting the humans figure out what had happened for themselves. They did soon enough, and a long ten years passed before the death finally stopped, the souls of those who died of starvation, suicide, and whatever other method now counted into Sliske’s power. Alone, he was simply a demon with an affinity for the twisted, torturous ways of the afterlife. With several cities worth of spirits adding to his reserves, he’s a master of persuasion and dark magic. Simply put, he is not a demon to cross, for you may end up a part of his own little motley crew. He ended up as a Demon Lord under King Rufus soon after that one city he ensnared. Though that one is a story for another time. At some point during a massive power vacuum in Hell, Sliske Arkilius died by the hand of a lucky demon that showed once and vanished afterwards. During yet another period of time where he could contemplate what got him killed this time, he decided enough was enough, and struck his surname from existence. Sliske the Despised took his place, moving to isolation for awhile to hone both his body and mind. When he came back to his manor, he resumed his rule with an iron fist and bolstered the army under his watch. Rage now fueled him, which only helped to cultivate his superiority complex. In his own words... [color=purple]"My era begins not with a quite takeover, but with Hell being razed in shadow."[/color][/indent] [b]War History:[/b] [indent][i][color=003471]The Battle of Ruthria:[/color] Killed through a combined effort of the Angels Omega and Tartys.[/i] [i][color=fff200]Alt Signia:[/color] Conquered a Machina agricultural planet in the meantime.[/i] [i][color=aba000]Hohenheim's Palace:[/color] Killed by Omega.[/i] [i][color=39b54a]Arcadia:[/color][/i] Reinforced Hell's borders. Killed by Gregorovic.[/indent] [b]Powers:[/b] [indent][i]Changeling[/i] – A trademark of his race, Sliske can change his form at will. The more power he accrues, the more varied these changes can become. [i]Mystic[/i] – With a masterful grasp of most forms of magic, Arkilius can cast a wide variety of spells. [i]Shadow Poison[/i] – A dark, poisonous gas released from Sliske’s hands. It causes a form of drug-induced hysteria, causing what is basically a horrifying acid trip, along with a dangerously high adrenaline rush in which everything is viewed as a hostile. Demonic creatures are unaffected. [i]Riftwalker[/i] - Sliske can open dimensional rifts at will to cross vast distances and between planets. An entrance and exit pair cannot be in close range of each other.[/indent] [b]Weapons:[/b] [indent][i]Claws[/i] – Sharp bone protrusions on the tips of his fingers. Dangerous indeed. [i]Bonesword[/i] - A favorite transformation of Sliske's right arm. His forearm gets changed into an unnecessarily sharp sword that's capable of slicing through lower-quality armor like a hot knife through butter.[/indent] [b]Equipment:[/b] [indent]N/A[/indent] [b]Other:[/b] [indent]Theme - [url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2O0KvAuqhJU]A Warning to All Pokemon![/url][/indent] [/hider] [hider=Syphax Gallus Aquilus] [center][img]https://wallpaperscraft.com/image/skywrath_mage_cloud_forged_dota_2_art_skywrath_mages_94254_640x960.jpg[/img][/center] [hider=FemSyphax, "Syphaxia"][img]http://safebooru.donmai.us/data/__drawn_by_aurora_rokudo__46d46af96a6afb43a8b31ef0c9c7ede5.jpg[/img][/hider][center][h2][color=sienna]"No matter how crafty you are, how strongly the Nexus favors you, I will not let you lay a finger on my people!"[/color][/h2][/center] [b]Name:[/b] [indent][color=sienna]Syphax Gallus Aquilus[/color][/indent] [b]Title:[/b] [indent]Knight of the Southern Winds[/indent] [b]Age:[/b] [indent]34[/indent] [b]Gender:[/b] [indent]Male[/indent] [b]Allegiance:[/b] [indent]Angels of Heaven[/indent] [b]Race:[/b] [indent]Eagle Harpy[/indent] [b]Height:[/b] [indent]6’1” – 1.85m[/indent] [b]Weight:[/b] [indent]105lbs. – 47.63kg[/indent] [b]Personality:[/b] [indent]Syphax, like most harpies, is a bit of a self-righteous prick. The twist is, he has the abilities to back it up, and will do so without hesitation. He is absolutely fearless in combat, and while he has no particular allegiance to Heaven, he fights on the behalf of his race. He is widely considered to be the greatest warrior the Harpy race has ever produced, and the claims are well-founded.[/indent] [b]History:[/b] [indent]They came under the shadow of a moonless night, killing the sentries stationed around this Angelic fort with a few well-placed shots. Then they charged, a horde of well-equipped humans and mechs storming the walls and waking those in the barracks. Among them was the Knight of the Southern Winds himself, who had been enjoying a night of lust with a female of his race. The outer wall came down just to interrupt their love-making, and this spurred Syphax to action. He launched from the bed in seconds, equipping his armor and his weapons with unmatched haste. With a kiss on the cheek and a fleeting promise to return soon, he was gone out the barracks door before anyone else had even gotten out of bed. The slim silhouette of a single, male harpy stepped into a one-sided fight. The lasers of distant snipers were already trained on him, one of them standing out as a bright cyan rather than the normal red. A hundred guns and rams were pointed at his chest, every single finger behind a trigger itching to end the monster in front of them. With a crack of his neck, he spoke with a thick, Norwegian accent. [color=sienna]”Good. A fair fight.”[/color] He launched into the air with a heavy thrust of his wings, the sheer force of the jump forcing even the Machina mechs to stagger back. Each sniper took a shot at him, all except the one behind the bright blue dot. From the sky he rained hell, bolts from the warrior’s crossbow hitting every mark he chose, tearing through the soldiers below. Moments later he slimmed his profile, diving head-first into the army sent to take the fort with a flurry of steel, lacerating everything that got close. They fell in droves to the ferocity of Syphax, the ground soon tainted red with human blood and littered with corpses. The snipers were next, each dying a thankfully quick death to the hellish creature that had been unleashed upon them. Only one enemy escaped that conflict with their life. This enemy left before the entire force had been killed and filed a horrifying report, much to the dismay of the Machina. The Knight of the Southern Winds, his fort defended and enemies wary of him now, retreated back into the hold as the rest of the soldiers poured out. Finding no threat, they all nodded to the passing hero before tending to the decimated field. He then made it a point to return to his lover, continuing the night as if it had never been interrupted in the first place. At least, that’s how the tale goes. Some believe that he was the last one out of the barracks, that he only killed a single enemy and lost most of the guard. An engraved bullet he later noticed and dug out of his right arm defends his original story.[/indent] [b]War History:[/b] [indent][i][color=004b80]The Battle of Ruthria:[/color] Not present.[/i] [i][color=fff200]Alt Signia:[/color] Remained in Celestia for the duration of the battle with Dorafraki.[/i] [i][color=aba000]Hohenheim's Palace:[/color] Conquered the gauntlet and used his wish to liberate his race from Hell.[/i] [i][color=39b54a]Arcadia:[/color][/i] Killed by Ira after significantly weakening her. Hildr cucked his kill.[/indent] [b]Powers:[/b] [indent][i]Adrenaline[/i] – While in combat, Syphax is highly unlikely to notice flesh wounds until after the fact. This makes him especially dangerous when on the field. [i]Flight[/i] – Wings that enable flight, aerial attacks, and a host of other devastating talents. [i]Whilrwind[/i] - The sheer power behind Syphax's wings create a forceful gust of wind whenever he takes flight or lands, and prevents enemies from flying close to him. This will stagger most opponents.[/indent] [b]Weapons:[/b] [indent][i]Armadyl Crossbow[/i] – A powerful crossbow said to be used by the patron goddess of Harpies herself. Bolts fired from this weapon often penetrate light armor, and pierce flesh like paper. [i]Featherweight[/i] – An extremely light greatsword with unnatural maneuverability and extreme durability. It’s lightness is credited to being created from titanium and cobalt. [i]Infernalbane[/i] – A dagger that’s particularly effective against infernal beings, such as demons.[/indent] [hider=Syphax - Aiglos] [img]http://feilsha.wdfiles.com/local--files/aiglos/800px-Voltaic_Spear.jpg[/img] A mythical spear imbued with ice magic. In the right hands, it moves unnaturally quickly and flash-freezes whatever it cuts or stabs. Needless to say, it has found the right hands. Aiglos can be used to create full-blown hurricanes and tornadoes if wielded by a Harpy. [/hider] [b]Other:[/b] [indent][i]Theme[/i] - [url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8EZ_-vOn5Tc]Bad Idea[/url][/indent] [/hider]