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Quote: [i]“I promise you father, I will do all that is in my power. I will not let our people fail.”[/i]

	[i]"I doubt you will be a dealbreaker Mr. Whiskers...most of the men will be frightened off by me being a Librarian."[/i]

[b]Name:[/b] Eira Brisingr

[b]Age:[/b] 20

[b]Appearance:[/b] Modestly dressed, in a tall grey blue skirt and a high collared blouse, stockings and pointy toed brown boots (Think Edwardian style*). 
Her long light-brown hair is usually neatly bundled up for practical reasons. She has striking blue eyes, though the exhaustion in it is plain to see. Her smile never is full and wavers, before disappearing again in an expression of worry and concern, save for the stares of concentration or the dreamy expressions when she has found another crush.

[b]Personality:[/b] Eira had once been very sheltered and kept from all of the dangerous paths her father and brother were walking, but the good natured, gentle young woman would ultimately get a rude wake up call. Still she is determined and strong willed to keep her promise to her father, despite all the harm and pain it will bring her.
She is a wary and at times insecure whether she can do what she promised, she struggles with the weight & importance of it all. She at times wants to tell people, so they can stop spreading untrue rumours of her father and brother killing each other or them being part of some seedy business. She at times laments that this prevents her from leading a normal life as she is still young and frankly not a clue on what to do exactly.
Her high tolerance for pain allows her to go through it all, but mentally she lives from day to day.

[b]Biography:[/b] 
[b]Sin:[/b] WRATH: One of the Great Demon Generals
[i]“Consume them in wrath; consume them till they are no more, so it may be known to the ends of the earth that God rules over Jacob. Selah”

"Why do You withdraw Your strong right hand? Stretch it out to destroy them!"[/i]

[b]Who is Wrath? [/b]
Wrath is born from Rage, unquenchable and without Mercy he feasts upon the feelings of Anger. And is by all accounts who have confronted him feared. The need for Vengeance is one of Wrath’s specialities. Terrifying strength bundled together to drive those he feeds upon down to surpass impossible odds and to feast upon the fallen who realise their inevitable defeat.
His persistence to survive and influence those he comes across makes him a true threat to humanity. At least that is what the scripture tells you.

The truth in fact is much more complicated. For right and wrong aren’t always so black and white. In fact, what could be more just than to aid those who seek justice for the wrongs done unto them?


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Once there was a God of Light, a creator in his own right, he and his beloved ruled over a large frozen continent, bringing warmth and life to the frozen plains and happiness to his living subjects. He was truly content and happy, being known as the most Beautiful and Just God, upon whom one could plea for mercy. When mankind in their explorations came seeking refuge, he willingly lifted the veil and opened his gates for them. Offering them shelter and wisdom to find their own path understanding them to be a young race, still struggling with who they were and where to go from here.
That happiness did not last for long. 
Lucifer came calling. 
He tried to explain his torment brought onto him and his kin, to have Father’s anger turned against him and all because of mankind. He offered them friendship and a rather singular gift. A wooden box.
He warned him saying that mankind would only bring him misery and that he would come to see them for the parasites they truly were.
But this God of Light dismissed him and his counsel, though graciously he accepted the gift.
And while life continued on relatively peacefully, something was stirring in the hearts of mankind. Anger, Resentment and whilst people had once been free to believe what they wanted there were groups within that demanded loyalty unto their God and whispers of Lucifer’s visit sat ill with them.
Having always been a hands off kind of God, allowing his Lady to soothe the hearts and minds of the people to allow her to garner tribute and prayer. She was known as a Mother of Mercy and Peace.
Rituals and Offerings done to them gave them the power to do miracles. Elaborate sacrificial rites or even simple offerings of Mistletoe and Barley to represent the both of them. Traditions to offer weary travellers a warm bed and belly for the night or fertility rituals such as the Feasts of Starlight and the Great Hunt in honour to them. 
For Gods and their power exist through the devotion of their followers, their fervour and numbers. And it was this last thing that he watched being cast aside. The devotion to go down, diminishing their powers and diminished their presence throughout the realm. This only increasing more and more when those distrusting humans started killing his original subjects. 
Mankind started slowly a genocide that left the God of Light weaker with each death. 
Deciding enough is enough, He called upon all his subjects still loyal and intended to defeat these wicked humans and banishing them from his realm. 
This resulted in several battles, each more difficult as with his dwindling numbers his powers were reduced as well, to the point where they reduced his Godhood to such an extent that they turned him and his wife Semi-Mortal. 
In these days of desperation Lucifer’s gift came to mind. Lucifer had told him it could swallow entire armies and the most powerful of beings, but that by opening it again all its contents would come spilling out once more. 
The Fallen One had stated that Father had used a similar box for the ‘Elder Beings’ and that he had offered the one he had taken upon his leaving heaven as a token of friendship.
With his back against the wall he ignored his wife’s pleas and planned on taking the box with him, but through treachery they were caught unawares. 
The humans overwhelmed him and his wife intending to show to all those remaining, that they were false gods. Fakes and just as mortal as they were. 
Both chained, they were brought out to their balcony so their subjects might see the truth behind their gods. Awaiting the judgement of these so called ‘Holy Warriors’.
When they decided to cast Lady Pandora from the balcony to leave her hanging for the crows and to display the wickedness behind the Mistletoe, he protested and true to her name Pandora, like the very plant she represented pled for peace. 
Her last words were for him. 
Before she could even finish them, they slit her throat and pushed her from the balcony. At this point Amon A Thule  was overcome by rage and he yanked himself loose from his captors. In a final struggle he gained control over the box and opened it expecting it to swallow them all. 
Instead he felt the Void staring back at him as was met by an unknown dark force. He was enveloped by the Fires of ten thousand Suns, before being plunged into the deepest and darkest Cold that he ever experienced. The chains that bound him melted into his skin and the powers contained within that box transformed him into the very thing his heart was filled with and desired. Wrath itself. 
In his new form he easily took what was his back.
He smote them all, made them suffer and hunting down their kin. No one would escape the Wrath of the former God of Light. He cast a darkness now everywhere he went and manipulated the weaker of mind, turning them against their kin. He used them to feed the unbridled fires that burned behind his eyes. 
He took on a new name, casting aside his old persona and joined Lucifer when he found that he no longer could go back to his old life and a God of Light. Joining as one of his generals ultimately lead to his imprisonment inside a host. But he always had been stubborn and powerful and often tired out the hosts shortening their lifespan as they formed his literal cage and binds. But he knew mankind was weak and would slip up and give into darkness once more allowing him to get out and finally resume his quest for vengeance.

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[hider=Eira:]
Eira by all accounts had a very normal upbringing, if you discounted the facts that her mother died in childbirth and they had to move around every other year or so. Partly because her father was a diplomat, but mostly because he and her brother were Knights belonging to the Order of Ascalon.
They we often away checking out rumours on different sects and cults stirring in the shadows. They kept a vigilant eye on matters, even performed dangerous missions, as soon as the enemy found them again, they moved. They left nothing to chance, but sometimes even the best preparations cannot safeguard you from everything. The Cult had found them sooner than anticipated and had followed them home. There all hell had broken loose. 
That afternoon when Eira got home, she found the house in a state of complete disrepair, thinking first someone had broken in, she called out of her father and brother, all she got as a reply was a low moan. She hurried towards it and found a battlefield. Her brother lay dead on the stone cold cellar floor his eyes wide open and a dozen stab wounds in his chest. There was no movement from him but thankfully her father was still alive. Barely, but he seemed to be struggling to carry on, he was bleeding out and his breathing had become irregular. As he allowed himself to use the wall to lean against he called her towards him. There was no way she was ready for what he was about to do, but there was no more time. She would need to find aid to deal with the burden he would be transferring over to her.  
Against his own better judgement, but knowing he had no options as Magnus had been preparing her brother Askr for this specific task as both being Knights of Ascalon, he tried to explain to her quickly what he was about to do.
As Eira pleaded with him to allow her to take him to a hospital or a doctor he refused, saying he couldn’t risk it. Trying to explain to her that was he was about to do was irreversible and would kill him by the end of it, but that she had to be strong and keep her wits about her.
Eira however hard always been kept away, she tried to listen as best she could, but what her father started talking off sounded downright preposterous, yet her father made her swear. She would be the Vessel now, the Cage to contain the demon. She would need to seek aid from others and above all not give any credence to what the demon would tell her. 
So desperate Magnus starts the rite that would forever seal Eira’s fate and transfer the demon over to his daughter, explaining to her that under no circumstance must the demon be allowed to gain his freedom again. Not completely realizing what this twisted deal is, she comforts her father in his last moments before he marks her with his own blood, starting the ritual. As soon as the transfer is complete, her father slumps down an empty expression cast upon his face.
Now that she has become the new Host, she is fearful of the cult coming back so she calls up the authorities, to ensure they have some spotlight on them, that way she assumes they’re not likely to try another attack with the law running around the place. Having no idea where to look for potential aid she knows she has to brush up on her knowledge. Thankfully she finds her father’s diary, but whilst reading it, she understands that the hosts who house Wrath do not live long lives.
They are easily manipulated and each time Wrath grows stronger. Her father writes that during the transference unto him they had barely been able to contain it and that the next host should seek out a way to more permanently rid themselves of off it. With practically no allies or knowledge how is she to accomplish this?
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Curse:
Her fear and anger fuels the very demon inside of her. Allowing him to struggle against her mortal coil, resulting into her being tortured from within, like pressure put on a pipe waiting for it to burst.
During even her short time with the demon, she carries fresh scars from the attempts Wrath had tried to get out up until this point
Whilst in the meantime he always talks to her,  trying to gain her trust, break her down and trying to get his way, that way, making her appear more crazy then she actually is or at new moon's appear in her dreams.

Likes: A small measure of peace, stillness of mind, a warm cup of cocoa, a warm fire, a good night’s rest, a handsome nice man and Mr. Whiskers her brother's cat.

Dislikes: Anything that upsets her as it triggers the demon and thus causing her pain. Pigeons and (ink)stains in her books or clothing.

Quirks: She works as a librarian and loves to rebind and update older books.
She's a bit of a weird girl with a love for older fashion. 
She also falls too easily for a handsome face, her brother once lamented that she’d say yes to marrying the devil right under their noses as she is quote: "A silent sea of raging hormones". 
Despite all her hardship it seems Lady Luck is on her side, or she has multiple guardian angels with all the near misses, mysterious survivals and good timing she has had up until this point.

***She also takes care of her brother's cat Mr. M. Whiskers, a very peculiar feline that her brother once claimed possessed the soul of violent criminal and the M standing for Monster or Mayhem...Eira can't be too sure.

[hider=Mr. Menace Whiskers]
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He is a large male cat that at first glance looks quite normal, save for the nicked ear and the scar and the fact that those eyes that are fixated upon you never blink...
And while he does not turn down his pets, he is very specific on the people. Where small children are somewhat tolerated, he smacks the shit out of most ordinary people, with Shawn the postman being his favourite target as well as that snooty poodle down the street. 
Whilst Eira normally has no problems with him and dismisses most accusations claiming he is just doesn't like certain people, she can't help but trust the cat when he gives off his signature growling sound even before a person enters or stares at her disapprovingly on how she handles certain matters.  

[i]Menace had spent an irritating two minutes in that box. Technically, a cat locked in a box may be alive or it may be dead. You never know until you look. In fact, the mere act of opening the box will determine the state of the cat, although in this case there were three determinate states the cat could be in: these being Alive, Dead, and Bloody Furious.
Shawn dived sideways as Mr. Whiskers went off like a Claymore mine.[/i]

[i]The more Eira looked at the smug grin Mr. Whiskers wore the more she was convinced he merely kept doing so to insuring his bet down at the local gambler's ring. Still, he had been right on all of them. [/i]