[hider=Dartega]
[center][h3][b]Dartega[/b][/h3][/center]
 
[b]Height:[/b] 6'1"

[b]Weight:[/b] 195 lb

[b]Age:[/b] 22

[b]Race/Species:[/b] Human
 
[b]Appearance:[/b] [img] https://vignette3.wikia.nocookie.net/the-legendary-moonlight-sculptor/images/e/ef/Dark_knight.png/revision/latest?cb=20151017153307 [/img]

Without his helmet, Dartega has long black hair and maintains a clean shave. There's always a very serious composure on his face, probably due to his grim history and the nature of the duty he feels he must carry out. A wicked looking scar pierces vertically across his right eye and halfway down his cheeck. Despite his seemingly cold, hard gaze, there is a hint of warmth and emotion buried deep within him that only the most perceptive might see. His build is tall and lean and his physical condition is exceptional, aside from having many scars across his back from lashings that he always keeps concealed. 
 
[b]Personality:[/b] There is little Dartega thinks about aside from his dark past and the goals he has for the future. Although he is not averse to humor and merrymaking, he generally avoids being the center of attention. He is consumed by his sense of duty to become faster, stronger, and smarter, and only spends his time relaxing when he's recovering from training. His usual daily habits include working out, practicing his techniques, and preparing himself mentally for battles to come. As a whole, his life has become dedicated to the art of war.
 
[b]Abilities, Talents, Traits, Powers:[/b] 
His many years spent as a slave and countless lashings have granted him a tolerance to pain far greater than that of an average man. Having spent a majority of his life around demons, he also possesses a basic understanding of their ancient language, and is able to use their weapons and artifacts. Since he was a boy he was taught to show no fear, to fight aggressively and furiously, and to be prepared to meet his end at any moment. His skill with blades and his martial arts techniques are prodigal, and even at his young age he is able to stand toe to toe with those who have dedicated their entire lives to the craft. He has transformed the essence of his being, his very mind and body, into an exquisitely crafted weapon.

[b]Items/Equipment:[/b] A full suit of high quality, black plate armor over a set of chainmail. The chestplate has cruel looking spikes protruding from the shoulders and back to help deter and punish would be adversaries. Spikes also pierce menacingly outward from his knuckles and greaves to deliver knees and punches, respectively. 

Sheathed on his back are two demonblades, K'Girr and Bozar, named after the demons that were slain to empower them. K'Girr, his broadsword, is a wider and heavier blade forged to brutally cleave through anything in it's path. When it's words of power are spoken in the demon tongue, it becomes engulfed in flames that burn all but it's wielder. 

Bozar, on the other hand, is a shortsword forged for speed and efficiency, and is far more maneuverable. When it's powers are invoked it becomes red hot and is capable of melting through just about anything, with enough time. 

Both are covered in dimly glowing runes, and radiate the demonic power imprisoned within them. These powers come at a price, however, and drain the very life essence of their wielder when used. 

[b]History:[/b] 

[hider=History]

Raised in a warrior village near the border of the outlands, Dartega lived a harsh life from the beginning. His father, Antidas, was his best mentor and began training him to become a soldier when he was just a boy, as was tradition in the village. The first time he picked up a sword, he was only five years old. His father was a stern man, hardened from years of battle, and was very serious about his training. Bordering the Outlands meant that their village was the first line of defense against the demon kingdom Gyr'adur. Although the demon sovereignty had never officially declared war, there was always the chance of a raid by rogues who didn't necessarily owe their allegiance to any higher council. It was much the same threat as human bandits and thieves on their own side of the border. And to top it all off, there was still the occasional trouble with trolls and other wild beasts. 

Even though the village was constantly threatened, it had survived so many years for a reason. It produced some of the finest quality warriors in the kingdom, and battle was their specialty. Dartega never questioned his destiny, either. When his father began training him, he trained hard and learned all he possibly could with a quiet focus. His mother, Katessa, was the source of tenderness within the family, and always made sure he ate well and was healthy. Despite the harsh, barren wasteland that Dartega was raised in, and despite having very little in the way of material wealth, the greatest advantage he did have was parents that raised him well. 

"You will make for a great warrior some day, my son," his father would say as he tucked him into bed at night after a hard day's work. "This, I know for sure. What's more important, though, is that you become a great man as well." 

"I will father. I'll be just like you some day!" Dartega replied with a smile, the young determination evident in his voice and eyes. His father even passed him a grin back. 

"Don't set your standards so low, Dartega. Your fate has much more in store for you than the life of an old, wounded warrior. Now, get some rest. It will be an early day tomorrow." His father gripped his son's forearm firmly before leaving him to sleep. 

By the time Dartega was 14 years old, he was already an incredibly skilled swordsman, and practiced by duelling the village blade master. His martial arts had improved drastically as well, and it was safe to say he was the pride of the village. After winning an arena combat tournament for his age group and even making it to the the semi finals for the age group above him, there was no doubt that there was something special about him. In a village of warriors, he was the most promising combatant they had seen in years. His peers admired him for his ferocity, the elders praised him as well, and even when presented with the prestigious golden lance medallion after winning the tournament, he continued to remain humble. 

"Never let the failures get to your heart, my son. And never let the success get to your head." Dartega nodded, soaking in all the advice he could from his father before accepting the award. It would soon be time for him to officially become a soldier in the village, at the age of 16. It was a high honor, and signified his passing from boyhood into manhood. His mother could hardly contain her excitement, and even his father looked forward to the day with a gleam in his eyes. Little did they know, that day would never come. Only a few months after being awarded the medallion, a burning meteor storm devastated the entire village from out of nowhere.

Chaos ensued afterwards as the villagers rushed through the streets and the soldiers grabbed their weapons. Despite being well trained and disciplined, they were still caught off guard. Meteors continued to barrage the village from all directions, destroying everything. "This cannot be natural. It is the work of demon magic," Antidas spoke, demonstrating his wisdom. "Men! Follow me!" He roared, charging out into the storm and rallying the village warriors. Although not yet recognized officially as a soldier, Dartega put on his gear and followed. 

Outside, a horde of various different demons was rapidly approaching the village, with the obvious intent to lay waste to their homes. Among them, a larger and seemingly more powerful demon raised it's staff in the air to halt the firestorm. The damage had already been done, and the village had been consumed by a raging inferno. A cruel smile possessed of wicked, sharpened teeth formed upon the creatures visage as it gazed upon the destruction. "Form a wall, watch the flank!" Shouted Antidas, gritting his teeth and preparing for what would inevitably be a bloody and terrible battle. Seamlessly, Dartega formed up with the other village warriors, entirely prepared to do what he had trained to do his entire life. 

Moments later, the horde of demons smashed violently into the defensive position of the village warriors, erupting in chaotic and frenzied fighting. From that point forward, everything was a blur. The blood of both men and demons streamed into the air as swords and axes clashed together. At first, it was very evenly matched. Antidas wove through the demon horde with great skill and fervor, slashing through their ranks with his greatsword. The other soldiers as well as Dartega followed valiantly in step, fighting for their homes, their families, and their very lives. The demon raiders would pay a very heavy price this day for attacking a simple village. 

After heavy losses on both sides, the demon with the staff stepped forward. With a brief channel, the demon cast a bolt of green lightning with a flash at Antidas. The bolt blasted a hole through his chest and armor, burning him and knocking him back and onto the ground unconscious. Upon seeing this, Dartega skillfully fought his way to the demon mage as quickly as he could. The Warriors continued fighting ruthlessly, but without commands their ranks were beginning to fall apart. Dartega got as close to the mage as he could without being seen, and with vengeance in his heart, lunged forward with his blade. Some invisible barrier deflected his strike, and with unnatural speed the demon mage cracked him with it's staff, knocking him out as well. 

When Dartega awoke, he found heavy iron cuffs attached around his wrists and ankles. A single chain bound him and the other survivors together, and their armor and weapons were gone. Many of them were still badly wounded from the battle. After keeping his voice low and speaking to the others, he discovered that they had been sold into slavery and would soon be marching through the Outlands. It was a long and arduous journey, with little food and water and no time to rest. The steady cracking of the demon whips marched the prisoners forward. It was a sound that would soon torment the minds of the prisoners in ways they never before could comprehend. 

Eventually they arrived at the obsidian fortress, where they were forced to work in the mines. The work was constant, seemingly unending, as they eventually lost track of day and night. Anyone who fell asleep was lashed and put in the stocks, until they had completely lost their will. Dartega had no idea where his family was, until one day he saw his father put in the stocks as well. Carefully, he left his work area and made his way to the stocks, trying to avoid being seen by the demon slavers. "My... my son..." said Antidas, now barely clinging to life. His chest was still severely injured and his back had been brutally lashed. 

"I... I tried to resist... to revolt. So.. they put me here. They think they can take my heart. But... they never could, and they never will. I may die here, but they will never... take my heart. You have the same gift, Dartega. You will lead the villagers to freedom. I... believe in you..."

"But... but father... you're not going anywhere. You're still alive. We will make it out of here together. We can do this..." spoke Dartega, devastated to see his mighty father in such terrible condition but trying to conceal it. 

"Enough of this." A deep, powerful voice bellowed out from a demon as it unfurled it's wings and jumped down from a balcony carved of stone. The demon had been watching from above the mining pit the entire time. The creature pulled out it's whip and lashed Dartega, in front of his father's eyes. 

"Don't give in, Dartega. With all your heart... Never give in..." Antidas spoke, with every ounce of strength he had left. Dartega resisted as long as he could, but eventually collapsed to the ground. The demon pulled out a cruel, curved dagger and began striding toward his father, helpless in the stocks. The last vision Dartega would have before fading into the unconscious again, would be of his father's throat being sliced open by the demon. 

Dartega awoke to find a bitter hatred inside himself, for all demonkind. Although he knew not all demons were the same as the slavers, he couldn't help it. They fed him his father's rations as well like it was some sort of twisted joke. Instead of eating them, however, he split them among the other prisoners and began plotting a rebellion. He would finish what his father had started, or die trying. Eventually, word of a mysterious red powder made it's way to him. One of the other villagers had found it while mining, and together they uncovered what it really was. Zaudite, a magical powder with many uses, that when properly activated became an explosive. The goal became clear: they would need to collect enough powder to make a bomb, bait the demons down into the pit again, and set off the device. Afterward, they could take their keys and weapons and free everyone in the fortress. 

It was a very bold plan, but still Dartega convinced everyone that it would work. The villagers began collecting the magic powder, but it was a slow process, and they needed to be careful to avoid being caught. It would take a few years to collect enough to create a formidable weapon. During this time, Dartega found a way to eavesdrop on the demons that watched from the balcony. He discovered that the one who killed his father was named Graahl, and knew that one day he would seek revenge. He also learned that the entire slave business being carried out inside the obsidian fortress was highly illegal, even among the demon sovereignty. The most important thing he learned though, over the years, was how to speak in the demon tongue. This would allow him to use their weapons and equipment to their fullest potential, and aid in his grand escape.

The years also brought countless lashings for he and the other villagers. The slavers were relentless, and demanded nothing other than complete and total obedience. It was extremely difficult to keep the plot a secret and stay organized, but it was their only hope, and they clung to it desperately. Dartega most of all, for if his plan failed, the blood of all the remaining villagers would be on his hands. His father had not died in vain. 

At long last, the bomb was ready. They only had one, so they would need to make it count. It was carefully hidden by the stocks, and covered with shrapnel. Dartega went to the usual spot he would hide to eavesdrop and waited to set the device off. The rest of the villagers formed up in the middle of the pit and began faking a brawl, to lure the slavers down from the balcony. Almost too perfectly, the slavers jumped down from their perch and immediately the crowd of villagers dispersed to take cover, knowing what would come next. It was the moment they had been waiting years for.

The bomb went off, blasting shrapnel toward the demons and completely obliterating them. The entire fortress rumbled, shaking loose a few rocks from the ceiling of the pit. Afterwards, the villagers rushed any slavers that had survived, and quickly overwhelmed them. Dartega swarmed in as well, searching for the keys and a weapon, before stumbling upon Graahl in the chaos. The demon lay on the brink of death, it's legs having been completely blown off and it's body savagely burned. "You... you have already failed... I see the hatred in your heart..." it said to Dartega as he approached, coughing up blood through it's sharpened teeth. 

"No. It's you that has failed," Dartega replied, pulling the demon's own curved dagger from it's sheath. "Now, look into my eyes, and witness oblivion," he said, driving the blade mercilessly into the demon's throat. Finally, he had his vengeance. 

He rushed out of the pit with the rest of the villagers, unlocking any cells that they passed by. After many years of torture in the mining pits, the villagers once more tasted fresh air as they escaped from the obsidian fortress. It was by far the most exciting day of their lives, but there was no time to celebrate. Everyone was still malnourished and wounded, and eventually more demons would make their way to the obsidian fortress. Together, they decided to go back to the village and see if anything was left. 

They arrived to find that their once great, warrior village was completely destroyed, with only a few piles of rubble remaining. With the few survivors there was, they would either have to start fresh again or journey to the center of the kingdom, and hope that nowhere else had been attacked. Some stayed, wanting to restore the village to it's former glory, while others went their separate ways, hoping to find a better life elsewhere in the kingdom. Everyone thanked Dartega for helping them escape, but he knew it wasn't over. He still needed to find his mother, who he hadn't seen in years. He didn't know if she was even still alive, but he was determined to find out. First, he would need to gather some equipment, which meant he would be travelling toward the center of the kingdom as well. 

Perhaps someday, he would return to find his once mighty warrior village had been restored. For now though, he was destined to return to the Outlands in search of his mother. There were a few blades he managed to scavenge before leaving the fortress, and hopefully he could get a fair price for them. Any demons he encountered in the future on his journey, he vowed to slay. The torture and torment they had caused him and his people would forever scar his heart. 

After saying his final farewell to the remaining people, he gathered what little he could and set off toward the center of the kingdom. There he would buy supplies and equipment for his return to the Outlands. What else the future had in store for him, he had yet to find out...
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