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[b]Name[/b]: Kaine

[b]Age[/b]: Would have been in his thirties, now his age is irrelevant

[b]Gender[/b]: Male

[b]Class[/b]: Warrior, used to be a cleric

[b]Covenant[/b]: Darkwraith

[b]Appearance[/b]
[img]http://i1255.photobucket.com/albums/hh638/BeingShotAt/dark_souls_pyromancer_by_nero_tbs-d4kfeia_zps62fe9505.jpg[/img]

[b]Biography[/b]: Some time ago, perhaps a decade, I used to be a man of faith, of great faith who led his brethren in pious prayer to the gods, our benefactors so I believed, who had brought us heat, the flame, and allowed our countries to rise in prosperity, so long as we paid homage to the gods that was, in return they gave us many things, for those of us whose ability to believe was strongest, they could actually bring forth power from their uttered hymns.

These miracles only boosted the faith in others, surely they thought, that if they prayed mightier and believed, they would be given rewards, perhaps a position of power? Wealth? They were gods after all, there was no limit to what they could do.

For me, the day all of my faith shattered, was not the day the Curse of the Undead struck down humanity at large, then I thought that perhaps this ailment was a result of the darkness, the Abyss that was rising in different places throughout the land, Oolacile, New Londo, and other places less heard of, surely our gods would not be so cruel as to punish even unbeliever's with such a curse, if that was so then many people Kaine had known were devout and godly men and women.

All of those believes, crumbled and were ground beneath my feet, the day not when the curse struck, but when the Gods began abandoning us, how could they be so cruel? To leave us all behind? Then, doubts began to poison and eat away at my mind, wondering, pondering, from there I struck out to learn more about the nature of the world. After Gwyn disappeared, as did the rest of the gods except for his daughter Gwynavere, the Dark Moon was nowhere to be found, the Witch was consumed, Nito disappeared, it happened.

Maybe it was necessary to stop it, but I felt that they didn't try very hard to prevent it from happening, New Londo was drowned, hundreds, no thousands perished in the flood, all to contain the spread of the Abyss, maybe it was necessary, but somehow, the whole thing felt off, why would our benefactors? Our kindly and benevolent gods resort so quickly to such an extreme method of containment? Without even [i]trying[/i] that hard to help evacuate the city first? No instead they condemned hundreds of innocent lives to death to stop a mere handful of those they called Darkwraiths.

That's when I went to the School of Vinheim, and began digging around in ancient lore, for the sorcerer's there weren't anywhere near as pious as clerics, more given to rational thought then trusting in a higher power, or at least...one that apparently had unpredictable motives like the Gods apparently did, their higher power was reason, logic, and magic, but it was magic brought forth from their own hands.

In between what I'd been taught in Thorolund and what lore I could find, I began to find many disturbing inconsistencies.

What was when the curse struck me down, I had been cursed before, but I hadn't been aware of the brand till I tripped and fell to an untimely, and embarrassing demise down a long flight of stairs, breaking my neck, when I woke up, I had found myself at a bonfire, by then however...the curse had already begun to strike down other sorcerer's, hollows beginning to move throughout the Dragon School of Vinheim, there had been deaths brought about by disease, however for some of those who 'perished', the end was not permanent.

Leaving that place, I made a fateful encounter with a Witch, not one of the Sister's of Chaos, but a rogue sorceress, named Beatrice, after talking to her and learning she was cursed as I was, she took me to a place she had found the Abyss was beginning to break through, using her powers, she aided me as we traversed the darkness, and we encountered a man dressed in fearsome armor, he resembled death himself, we had come to the Abyss, because something had called us.

We did battle, I was not a mere priest, I had been a cleric, one trained in the use of weaponry to wield in holy piety in the name of the Gods, but now my faith was gone, and was driven by a black rage, an anger long suppressed, after subduing the man, he spoke to us, wondering why I had not slain him, I answered that it was because I wanted answers.

From there, he told me many things, things that were unsettling, he was a Darkwraith, separated from his brethren, for the Abyss had many pathways and he had become lost on one of them, from there, he told me the other side of the story.

That the Gods, were responsible for the curse.

That day, who I had been, truly died, I left the small piece of the Abyss, which I suspected would not be there again should anyone find this place once more, I didn't know what to do, but unfortunately(or fortunately as my viewpoint later deemed it), I was not given a choice, I was later found by fellow priests and clerics, who forcefully bound me, and dragged me off, to an asylum they had said...

I tried to escape, many times, and each time they calmly inflicted 'mortal' wounds, knowing the further I slipped into becoming a hollow, the easier I would be to corral, for many hollows were not violent, they merely became almost comatose, laying about in their torment, I knew why. I could feel the weight of many past wounds, gone now physically but mentally...I could still feel the pain, pressing in on my sanity, combined with the hunger, for undead did not need to eat and other adversities, I suspect if I had not had...the burning rage in the core of my soul demanding to know the truth of the curse, I would have gone hollow.

So here I am, sitting in a cell in the asylum, waiting and hoping...
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