[hider=The Warped Reality] [center][img]http://i.imgur.com/wz5WQQZ.jpg[/img] [/center] [center][color=royalblue][b]Name:[/b][/color] Rufus. [color=royalblue][b]Title:[/b][/color] The Warped Reality. [color=royalblue][b]Age:[/b][/color] Indeterminate. [color=royalblue][b]Gender:[/b][/color] Unknown. [color=royalblue][b]Race:[/b][/color] Eldritch Horror. [center][color=royalblue][b]Abilities:[/b][/color] Rufus can perform one act with complete mastery, such that for any other being to even attempt it without complete dedication to the art instills upon him an unfathomable enmity for them. Rufus is without peer in the creation of Portals. It is how he entered reality, after all, and it this ability that marks his place as a terror upon the world. Shape. Diameter. Duration. Distance. Location. Time. No factor not perceived or conceived can limit the creation of his portals, such that reality itself bends like a servant supplicating before its sovereign usurper. [/center] [center][color=royalblue][b]Personality:[/b][/color] A sloven being enraptured with the mortals occupying a tiny speck in the grand cosmic opera occupying a single channel amidst countless possibilities. He carries himself casually, inviting ridicule from his shameless ways as he indulges in laziness, vagrancy, and petty pranks. A being who would life no finger in his own defense should a mugger see him stabbed in the gutter for a loaf of moldy bread, only to laugh through closing wounds at the cruelty humans can visit upon one another when pushed to their lowest points. Rufus is mercurial, prone to long bouts of lounging only to be struck by the indomitable need to enter action, pursuing a rush like a man possessed at the expense of all else, before crawling away to a sofa dumped upon the highest peak of a rancid scrapyard.[/center] [center][color=royalblue][b]Background:[/b][/color] An outsider among both Demons and Humans, he exists amidst the dregs of both, mingling at his leisure and twisting them both for his pleasure. Holding little to no martial or magical might, he looks a gnat antagonizing even novice Devil Hunters, yet not a one has survived to tell tale of him that didn't go without the distinct impression it was only at his amusement they carried onwards. For all good heroes know that their stories can meet a sudden and anti-climactic end should a writer put pen to paper those most dreaded words, "[i]Rocks fall, the party dies.[/i]" And Rufus is never far from a healthy supply of large boulders.[/center][/center][/hider]