[CHAR] 𝙺𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚍𝚘𝚖 𝙳𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚑

[Poet]

𝚃𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚊𝚒𝚗 𝚒𝚗𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚖𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚎𝚗𝚟𝚒𝚛𝚘𝚗𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝, 𝚗𝚘𝚗-𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚢𝚎𝚛 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚜, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚎𝚜.

𝙽𝙾𝙽-𝙿𝙻𝙰𝚈𝙴𝚁 𝙲𝙷𝙰𝚁𝙰𝙲𝚃𝙴𝚁𝚂

𝙺𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚍 𝚋𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝙿𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚍 𝙼𝚊𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚗.

𝙻𝚞𝚌𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚎 𝚒𝚜 𝚊 𝚠𝚘𝚖𝚊𝚗 𝚕𝚘𝚢𝚊𝚕 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝙷𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚕𝚍 𝚘𝚏 𝙻𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚂𝚎𝚎𝚔𝚎𝚛𝚜. 𝙼𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚘𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚒𝚗 𝚙𝚛𝚒𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚘 𝙿𝚞𝚛𝚐𝚊𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚢 𝚛𝚎𝚖𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚜 𝚞𝚗𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠𝚗, 𝚊𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚒𝚜 𝚗𝚘 𝚘𝚛𝚐𝚊𝚗𝚒𝚣𝚎𝚍 𝚛𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚐𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝙷𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚕𝚍 𝚘𝚏 𝙻𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝙷𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚏𝚝𝚎𝚛. 𝙻𝚞𝚌𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚜 𝚊 𝚑𝚒𝚍𝚍𝚎𝚗 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚒𝚜𝚘𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚋𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚘𝚗𝚎𝚍 𝚖𝚘𝚗𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚢 𝚊𝚜 𝚊 𝚜𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚝𝚞𝚊𝚛𝚢 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚂𝚎𝚎𝚔𝚎𝚛𝚜. 𝙱𝚞𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚘𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚒𝚜 𝚘𝚗𝚕𝚢 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚜𝚎 𝚠𝚑𝚘 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚒𝚗𝚟𝚒𝚝𝚎𝚍. 𝙰𝚗𝚍 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚒𝚗𝚟𝚒𝚝𝚎𝚍, 𝚒𝚝 𝚒𝚜 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚊 𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚌𝚒𝚏𝚒𝚌 𝚘𝚛 𝚐𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚙𝚞𝚛𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚎. 𝙰𝚏𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚜𝚞𝚌𝚑 𝚒𝚗𝚟𝚒𝚝𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗, 𝚛𝚎𝚐𝚊𝚛𝚍𝚕𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚠𝚒𝚜𝚑𝚎𝚜 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚊𝚌𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚙𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚑𝚎𝚍 𝚘𝚛 𝚗𝚘𝚝, 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚂𝚎𝚎𝚔𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚖𝚊𝚢 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚢 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚜𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚘𝚗𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚒𝚛 𝚑𝚘𝚖𝚎.

𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚐 𝙻𝚞𝚌𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚛𝚘𝚋𝚋𝚎𝚍 𝚘𝚏 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚎𝚢𝚎𝚜 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝙿𝚞𝚛𝚐𝚊𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚢 𝚌𝚊𝚖𝚎. 𝙵𝚘𝚛 𝚢𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚜 𝚜𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚋𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚑𝚘𝚛𝚛𝚒𝚍 𝚠𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚕𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚜. 𝚃𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚍𝚊𝚢 𝚜𝚑𝚎 𝚒𝚜 𝚞𝚗𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚠𝚑𝚘 𝚒𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚝𝚘𝚞𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚍 𝚑𝚎𝚛, 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚒𝚝 𝚐𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚟𝚒𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚞𝚗𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚢 𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛. 𝙻𝚞𝚌𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚎 𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝚜𝚎𝚎 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚙𝚊𝚜𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚏𝚞𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑 𝚌𝚛𝚢𝚙𝚝𝚒𝚌 𝚒𝚖𝚊𝚐𝚎𝚜 𝚒𝚗 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚟𝚎𝚕𝚘𝚞𝚜 𝚑𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚞𝚌𝚒𝚗𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜. 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚒𝚕𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚙𝚎𝚘𝚙𝚕𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚎𝚜 𝚍𝚒𝚜𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚢 𝚌𝚘𝚕𝚘𝚛𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚎𝚖𝚘𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚒𝚗𝚗𝚎𝚛 𝚍𝚎𝚜𝚒𝚛𝚎𝚜. 𝚃𝚑𝚎𝚜𝚎 𝚐𝚒𝚏𝚝𝚜 𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚐𝚒𝚟𝚎𝚗 𝚝𝚘 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚊 𝚏𝚎𝚠 𝚢𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚜 𝚊𝚐𝚘 𝚋𝚢 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚜𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚎𝚟𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚜, 𝚊𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎, 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚐 𝙷𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚕𝚍 𝚘𝚏 𝙻𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝.

𝚅𝚒𝚌𝚊𝚛 𝙻𝚞𝚌𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚎 𝚙𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚌𝚎𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚞𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚖. 𝙷𝚢𝚖𝚗𝚜 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚎𝚗𝚐𝚝𝚑𝚜, 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚜𝚑𝚎 𝚘𝚌𝚌𝚊𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚒𝚗𝚟𝚘𝚔𝚎𝚜 𝚑𝚎𝚡𝚎𝚜 𝚒𝚏 𝚜𝚞𝚌𝚑 𝚒𝚜 𝚗𝚎𝚌𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚊𝚛𝚢. 𝙱𝚕𝚊𝚍𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚊𝚛𝚖𝚘𝚛 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚞𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚊 𝚏𝚛𝚊𝚒𝚕 𝚠𝚘𝚖𝚊𝚗 𝚜𝚞𝚌𝚑 𝚊𝚜 𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏. 𝙱𝚞𝚝 𝚜𝚑𝚎 𝚒𝚜 𝚊 𝚐𝚎𝚗𝚎𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚜 𝚝𝚎𝚊𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚛. 𝚆𝚑𝚒𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚂𝚎𝚎𝚔𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚠𝚒𝚜𝚑𝚎𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚎, 𝚠𝚑𝚘 𝚠𝚒𝚜𝚑𝚎𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚎𝚜𝚘𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚌 𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚜 𝚊𝚠𝚊𝚔𝚎𝚗𝚎𝚍 𝚋𝚢 𝙿𝚞𝚛𝚐𝚊𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚢, 𝚒𝚜 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚜𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚐𝚕𝚊𝚍𝚕𝚢 𝚎𝚗𝚕𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚎𝚗. 𝚂𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝚊𝚕𝚜𝚘 ‘𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚝’ 𝚠𝚎𝚊𝚙𝚘𝚗𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚊𝚛𝚖𝚘𝚛 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚎𝚏𝚏𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚑𝚢𝚖𝚗𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚌𝚞𝚛𝚜𝚎𝚜.

𝙲𝚁𝙴𝙰𝚃𝚄𝚁𝙴𝚂

The She-Devil

_{She-Devil Hecuba}

~ALL THINGS UNDONE~

Prior Life

Hecuba, born in 1422, was the rebellious daughter of a minor German land-baron. Known to have been somewhat mean-spirited and irreligious (due in part to the extreme corruption of the local Roman Catholic Church). In particular, the parish's habit of selling indulgences and bestowal of religious artifacts led to Hecuba's collection of such curios and items of interest as a hobby, branching out naturally to the procurement of heretical and heathen tokens gained through coercion and blackmail of the baron's servants and staff. Hecuba's father spent most of his time abroad away from home in response to property he owned in Normandy being placed endlessly at risk by the conflicts of the Hundred Years' War, while her mother had died during childbirth, leaving the pernicious and capricious girl run of her father's estate. Not content to let her guards and servants do all the dirty-work themselves, Hecuba became obsessed with acts of violence, starting first with merely learning how to hunt and butcher animals, moving on to trapping and torturing animals, and then eventually to imprisoning and personally beating and torturing peasants and unfortunates of the barony itself. Her father's court became a haven for heretical figures who curried favor with her with offerings of obscure artifacts and pagan knowledge, further fueling her godless proclivities.

Precisely what transpired in the barony come the twilight of purgatory is poorly understood. A large amount of heavy fighting between the armies of men and the horrors of the abyss took place therein and nearby, with stories indicating Hecuba had fought on both sides. Some hypothesize she was captured or enslaved and forced to fight, others claim she had merely been given the excuse to devolve into her true violent nature by the mass outbreak of horror, but it is otherwise agreed that at the time she did not yet possess even but an inkling of the might wielded by the later figure of the She-Devil. As the reality of purgatory settled and the peoples of the land began the cycle of death and rebirth, Hecuba's estate became the focal point for countless desperate rituals, the ignorant, the malign, and the curious making use of encouragement and coercion alike, making use of her vast collection of relics and texts to perform all manner of profane acts in the earlier days of anguish.

The experiments culminated in Tiamat's Eclipse. The bloody events therein are not recounted in any written record, those few reborn lucid enough to recount it retelling incoherent, rambling, and disjointed tales of arms tournaments presided over by anathema and powers, disgusting and woesome orgies conducted by abominable fiends from the depths of the world, baleful displays of light that cut through the retina and mind like razors. Hecuba features in many of these retellings, with no rhyme, reason, or pattern as to her significance or actions beyond her mere presence, but whatever role she played, the She-Devil was the ultimate product of that awful affair.

Branded upon their flesh is the mark of the Seeker - and all who see it know true despair, in knowing that amongst the servitors of the adversary there are those who seek out and embrace the light intending only to snuff it out.

She-Devil Hecuba is a monstrous foe to all who would seek the Herald of Light, more a hellish beast than human now. Her immense strength and ability, already great on their own, have been heightened to inhuman proportions by the countless, profane and sickening powers acting upon her form and mind. She has taken unto herself and her soul - some say even willingly - the influence of multiple dread powers, such as the Erinyes, The Naked Complex, the Barbed Wheel, the Sterile God. Although lonesome, Hecuba is a Legion of the dark, for those that lay claim to her mind, body, and soul are many. A semblance of the being she once was remains still, cogent and capable of being reasoned with if only for a time. Some speculate that the mere presence of the Seekers' Sigil upon her body is evidence that she might be saved and redeemed one day, to then fight on the side of the light. What is most clear, however, is that in the relative present she is a nearly insurmountable (if thankfully rarely encountered), monstrous physical threat to any who would seek the Herald of Light, requiring significant guile and cunning to surpass where strength of arms would otherwise fail.

The She-Devil's Sins

Hecuba is a being of lightly fettered rancor made manifest. Her sins are boundless and without limit and pointless to recount in any detail. Her greatest flaw of benefit to Seekers is her profound susceptibility to occult forces. The same means by which she shackles and is shackled to the various beings that empower her renders her supremely vulnerable to arcane and esoteric power. It is also worth noting that for somebody so far-gone, she can be surprisingly coherent when caught in-the-moment. If she can be caught up by some means in conversation, she can be waylaid and distracted for a time - and perhaps even bargained with, coerced, or even momentarily turned. Her loyalty and focus are therefore questionable. In the same manner, Hecuba is much akin to a siege engine - only loosely directed in any kind of confrontation, she makes only the most pitiful of distinctions between her foes and will not prioritize. She will just as willingly charge into an assembled group of a Seeker's comrades as she might try to pursue the Seeker, or an unarmed and fleeing group of peasants, and is thus easily distracted and evaded.

The She-Devil's Failings

• Lost in the Dark - A Seeker she may technically be, but Hecuba is a slave of the adversary and therefore subject to their whims. They spend most of their time in the dark places of the world, and cannot harry and pursue Seekers for long before her dread masters call upon her to withdraw.
• She Was Never One of Us - Hecuba is reviled and hated by anyone and everybody with common sense and more than two neurons. Even cultists and other mortal servitors of the adversary will refuse to work with her, or even to remain in her presence without fleeing or resorting to violence. Many will simply attack her on sight. The sentiment is mutual, of course.
• Her Body is a Marred- Twisted as it is, Hecuba is only very vaguely and indistinctly recognizable as Human once the armor is peeled away.
• Her Mind is Damaged - She is just foolish enough to consistently make tactical blunders and be outwitted, and just intelligent enough to be bargained with and coerced.
• Her Soul Is A Wound - The very process which created the She-Devil and grants her power also renders her especially susceptible to occult and arcane powers and influence.
• Just Another Plaything - Although she is readily counted amongst the greatest of the adversary's mortal servants, she is just another mortal. The very beings she serves and that grant her power will turn on her in a heartbeat, torturing her and afflicting her with incalculable suffering for any or no reason, at any time they choose.
• There Shall Come a Reckoning - Hecuba's passage is not subtle. There shall be plenty of forewarning with her approach.
• And Ye Shall Bear Their Punishment - Hecuba's connection to various abyssal entities subjects her to resonance from their upbraiding. Injuring or slaying them will injure and impair Hecuba substantially, for a time.

The She Devil's Strengths

• Witch Engine - Hecuba is almost unmatched in physical altercations, be it in duels or in pitched, thronging battles. Trying to confront her head-on as anything other than a feint or distraction would likely end in misfortune without careful planning or nigh-miraculous skill and ability exceeding her own.
• Their Hand Upon Our World - Hecuba is under the influence of a number of powerful abyssal entities which, in addition to twisting her form and granting her profane might, can bestow her with additional, twisted boons as they deem fit.
• Guttering Hope - Hecuba is branded with a corrupted Seeker's Sigil, allowing her to track the Herald of Light - and to respond to the presence of other Seekers.
• The Dreaded - Mere word of Hecuba's approach is enough to send most normal folk, soldiery, and even comrades following Seekers running for the hills in terror.

The She-Devil's Tainted Virtues

• Violence: VIII
• Fortitude: VIII
• Soul: VII
• Passion: - (Whatever Womanly charms she had are long gone.)
• Perception: II
• Command: - (Not even cultists are foolish enough to work with her. Only inhuman forces beyond the ken of the just might appear with her, and even then it is more likely that she shall follow them than the other way around.)

Written by @Terminal

[Torack]

Character Sheet

_{Hondem Raz}

Hondem Raz has dark skin as he originates from what was once Eastern Africa, migrating to the lands of the Holy Roman Empire as a wealthy merchant and setting himself up in of the more populated cities. This however presented as a challenge for him, not only in learning the different languages of the Holy Roman Empire, but also the prejudice he would constantly face for the colour of his skin. Despite all the barriers that were before him, Hondem Raz remembers he became wildly successful and even ventured into the smaller political fields before the world was plunged into Hell.

He is a very tempered individual, Hondem Raz, kind and calm in most situations. On his face is always a small smile with crow's feet at the edges of his eyes. Yet he is also incredibly fierce, almost frighteningly so. To those whom he calls friends, he will willingly sacrifice his own life if it means their safety, not only out of fierce loyalty to them, but also because he feels the more punishment and pain he suffers the greater the chance that the Herald of Light will not reject him for what he was and the countless horrors he brought upon others.



Hondem Raz once suffered from lust. At one time he became addicted to sex, to its darker, more predatory perversions; his life centred around it, seeking new ways to satisfy his never ending thirst. It drove him into a deep hole where he became numb to all else, where nothing mattered, not family nor friends, except when he could next satisfy his lustful desires. It wasn't until his mother was raped before his eyes that he managed to break the habit, becoming disgusted with himself for what he had done to others, for what he had forced upon them. To witness the same upon his own mother had caused a deep wound, a realization that what he felt at that moment, he had caused to countless others and forced unending shame and suffering to his victims leading him to immense regret and self loathing. He seeks redemption from the Herald of Light, but because he feels unworthy he puts himself through the pain of trying to find Her as penance for his past crimes for fear that if he doesn't do so, the Herald would reject him from Her mercy.

• Nightmares: Hondem suffers not only from the hauntings of his victims, but he is also plagued by the memories of each of his deaths. To sleep is to enter a labyrinth of torture where his mind replays the darker moments of his life that he would rather forget. Often, he would see the many faces of the women he forced himself upon converging on him, torturing him with their stories of how he ruined their lives and their questions of what they did to deserve such cruelty from him. Some other nights, he would dream of his most gruesome, painful deaths and wake in a state of paralysis that could last anywhere between a few short seconds to several long minutes.
• Heavily persecuted by others: Hondem is a foreigner, but more than that, he is a man with darker skin than those around him. People, in their fear and hatred of the near perpetual darkness that took over their world has made them less trusting, more suspicious. They see him and they don't see a Seeker, they see a black man and almost always close their doors on him, eyeing him with deep mistrust and sometimes with outright hatred. It doesn't help that those who secretly aid the Adversary perpetuate their hatred and racism towards others, making following rumours almost a hindrance. Then there are those few who remember what he did to them, the women of some town or village, who screams rapist at the sight of him which inevitably causes the populace to drive him away.
• Depression: Because of his sins and what he had done to others, he feels a strong sense of self loathing. He even blames himself for what happened to his mother, believing that his crimes led to the punishment of having to watch her rape. And perpetuating this self loathing is the hatred the people have for him and their deep mistrust of him and people like him; his depressive thoughts have gone to such a point that he believes the Herald upon seeing him will turn him away unless he can prove himself worthy through severe penance, and even then he has his doubts that she might still turn him away because of what he is. On good days, he feels a tang of sadness deep within his chest, albeit manageable. And on the worst days he is nearly crippled by it.
• Bad reputation: Hondem Raz's past follows him like a bad stench. Rumours spread in every settlement he encounters like wild fire, perpetuated both by his victims and the agents of the Adversary, so much so that he no longer reveals his face in settlements, opting to keep his helmet on along with the rest of his armour to keep himself anonymous in order to be treated like a Seeker instead of a criminal.
• Blind in one eye: No matter how many times he dies and comes back, his right eye always ends up becoming blind in some way or other, often in some gruesome manner between the ages of seventeen and twenty. He remembers he originally lost his eye due to what Roman doctors told him was a worm during his travels as a merchant and ever since the world turned to what it was, he kept losing it with every new life.
• Phobia of slimy things: Hondem Raz has a strong phobia of things that are slimy, gooey, or that drip with thick fluids unnecessarily. Although he can handle seeing it and getting near such things, for him to touch it would make him go into an emetic fit. Seeing it will cause butterflies to well up his stomach and a deep uncomfortable feeling followed by excessive sweating, and sometimes he is known to hypoventilate; if he has to face a creature with somewhat similar characteristics he would need to meditate and steele himself.

• Very skilled with sword and shield: As was custom in the part of Abyssinia where he grew up, he was taught swordsmanship and horse-riding; his family was very tribal-centric, and tribal wars were not uncommon, and so as a son to a particularly wealthy tribal leader, it was expected of him to be a great fighter. He found, during his training, that he favoured the shield more than his sword, often using it to tire out his enemies or drawing their attention while his allies cut down their enemies.
• He can speak five languages: Hondem Raz was born in Abyssinia and moved to Egypt when he was around fifteen and so by a relatively young age, he knew how to speak Amharic, Latin, and Coptic; when he travelled to Europe as a merchant he learned Spanish and French.
• Wealthy: Despite being raised as a sort of warrior, Hondem Raz had a rather keen mind for business and merchanting. Using the experience he gained from his previous lives, he makes sure to earn a small fortune every time before he journeys as a Seeker; most of his wealth coming in the form of his armour, sword, and shield, otherwise he has various chests buried in a number of locations only for emergent cases.

• Violence: 4 (+1)
• Fortitude: 10
• Soul: 2
• Passion: 2
• Perception: 1
• Command: 6 - He has all six followers with him that he got from some small militias and a few soldiers (the circumstances in which he got them is something I want to explore ICly)

[Ashen One]

Galeren The Insane

_{“This is the way the world ends
Not with a bang but a whimper.”}

A Ill-fated warrior who wears perpetual silence like the Halberd upon his back, if one were to privy a glimpse of his origin, they'd learn a tale fraught with grief. A tale of two brothers..

The year was 1478 when twins Marcus and Galeren were born, their mother, died shortly after childbirth. Their father, subsequently died of grief for his wife of ten years. Rather than allowing them to fall into an orphanage, a kind-hearted nurse took in the pair, whom grew up oblivious as to their true mother and father. It was from her they learn to read, to write, and to care for one another. Marcus was easily the most adventurous, known for his brazen acts and active imagination; often battling 'dragons' and 'knights' crafted of straw. And where Marcus was bold, Galeren was not. The laconic one of the duo, often sequestering himself away into a tome or three. Though he did face badgering from the other village youths, they met the ire of his brother. They grew up in a modest household and thus childhood had no qualms..

1498 was the year that their mother's sickness began to worsen until she was eventually bedridden. They prepared for the inevitable, her death, and initially weren't worried. Marcus was stout juvenile who worked for a local sawmill and Galeren, while not as muscular as his brother, has filled out nicely while working for local masonry guild. Then came the passing of their mother, who unknown to them has sufficient debt. Even combined their savings weren't enough and the greedy collector was becoming evermore impatient. After one year without payment, he hired a small band of mercenaries to eliminate the pair. The following night, Marcus and Galeren were attacked, and though only armed with daggers, fought.

The battle lasted minutes, minutes that etched themselves into Galeren's mind. Marcus was mortally wounded and fell, his life soon to ebb. Galeren succumbed to a horrific rage that was more brutal savagery than actual fighting. The battle was won, but to what extent? Becoming a beast rather than man? Marcus would've known, had he not died of his wounds. Galeren, horrified of himself and of the scene before him fled the area, never to return. He discovered soon after that while the flesh lay cold, his brother's voice now plagued his sanity.

As the world ended, so did his mind; conniptions so violent that bodies were left unidentifiable. While he has gained more control over such, he is still prone to them should a situation arise. And that is all insofar to his tale...

Galeren is a man who suffers from his brother's constant belittlement. He refers to him as a monster. Killer. Murderer. As the whispers become shouts and the guilt becomes rage, his Wrath is unleashed upon the unfortunate souls he happens upon. Once his senses return so he could witness his own ire, it is far to late to save anyone. That is why he seeks the Herald of Light, to ask forgiveness and to be absolved of his sins.

Insane
"..Even in Death my brother speaks.."
Prone to Rage
"I..cannot control myself.."
Nyctophobia
"Traversing the dark? T'is but a fairytale without Light"
Angrophobia
"I am afraid of the monster that dwells within me"

Skilled Halberdier
"A versatile weapon, surely I wouldn't be here without it.."
Rallier
"Only in numbers is there strength. And with strength we shall prevail.."

Violence: 5⁺¹
Fortitude: 2
Soul: 2
Passion: 2
Perception: 4
Command: 10{No followers currently, planning to obtain later}

[Terminal]

The Questor

_{QUESTOR LEVIA GERLINDE}

_{"Cherish this moment of bleak anguish.
These dark times are but all of ruth the adversary shall ever know.
Hold pity and relish in your heart for those who will know no further the ineffable grace of their own veracity, come the time of the infinite."}

Prior Life

The precise date of Levia's birth has been forgotten by her, in the jumble of lives and deaths she has since experienced, though she remembers well enough the day where, amongst a crowd of thousands, she witnessed the burning of Joan d' Arc during the year of our lord 1431 - still a young and budding maiden, recently arrived in Normandy from Carthage where she had been born of a missionary who had forsaken his vow of celibacy. Levia's following life was ordinary and uninspiring - she was married off to a tanner in 1940, dutifully bearing him children and tending to his home until the great calamity that was purgatory came upon the land. Levia was amongst the first ream of victims to fall before its horrors, suffering rapine and anguish before being cast to the dark.

And so it followed; again and again, the memories that were Levia striving to lead an ordinary life even amidst the horror, made all the more trying as with each life spent she would shuffle her mortal coil earlier and earlier each time, and almost always by violent means whilst having suffered indignities. After several such times, Levia broke, and in her fugue did she discover her virtue. Her mind sundered to match the impossible darkness of purgatory, the impossible was branded into her being with hallowed clarity, the fractured and riven tears in her being woven into a new whole that would become the fabled maiden questor, Levia Gerlinde.

She would go on and, though beset by trial and many deaths, she did overcome many terrors and anathema, amongst them the dread Chalarensis, Hyperion, and Belphagor. Arising from common obscurity and achieving great success across time despite many setbacks, Levia briefly became a beacon of hope and inspiration amongst the masses...

Until the servitors of the adversary arrayed themselves against her, fearful of her prowess and burgeoning following. Seeking to forever curb her ability to lead and inspire others, the mortal agents of the enemy did weave the most insidious rumor of ridicule and doubt amongst the lands - that Levia herself claimed to be the Herald of Light. Scarcely over the course of a fortnight, Levia found herself jeered and set upon by those who might once have arrayed themselves under her command, and in her ignominy she was eventually slain by another Seeker who had followed the rumors and found her to be wanting.

Reborn in time, Levia did her utmost to trail without the vast shadow of her now besmirched repute. Now, her name is forgotten by many but known to some - and it is remembered as the name of a charlatan and a harlot, a false prophet and a pretender. A memory not abetted by her unfortunately traditional mores and behavior...

The Questor's Sins

Levia, in her life prior to purgatory and even during many of her initial lives in purgatory, lived in the traditional sense as a woman of her caste and upbringing was expected to have lived. She would labor and toil as a caretaker, bearing her mates many children, rarely speaking defiantly or acting without leave. Even the harsh and brutal revelations of purgatory itself have been unable to dissuade her from this manner of living; the habits and conditioning of her first life having ingrained themselves somehow irreparably from her. Her meekness was what led to her permitting her own upbraiding and destruction at the hands of a fellow Seeker, and in failing to speak out against the false rumors set against her by the adversary's servitors. Her past beliefs, forged upon her mind with callous fists and rods, taught her that as a woman, she was slippery, weak, untrustworthy, devious, deceitful and stubborn - and so, unconsciously and in her efforts to adopt the habits of strength, she strives to be as 'unwomanlike' as possible by being forthright, wholly truthful, straightforward, and accepting - disastrous and inadvisable qualities for one such as she in the lands of purgatory, and all come upon in a manner failing to dissuade her own self-internalized sense of inferiority and submissiveness. Levia is the servant of man - literally, figuratively, and much to her own misfortune - and that of those she intends to save from damnation. Thusly, Levia's cardinal sin is that of Sloth, her own willful and self-imposed indolence and stagnant moral character depriving her of the fullness of her own virtue.

The Questor's Failings

• The Meek - Levia lacks agency, and left to her own devices will usually seek help or else do nothing. In particular, she will endeavor to attach herself to a reliable male authority figure for guidance, and is dismissive of her own judgment as well as that of other women.
• False Light - The adversary's servitors wove a plot most wicked in their efforts to destroy Levia's fame amongst the peoples of purgatory. Those few who remember her, remember her poorly, as a charlatan and conceited pretender not worthy of the aid afforded to most seekers - and occasionally, sometimes even meriting punitive action.
• What Strength, Veracity - In her own, perhaps inadvisable efforts to attain greater virtue and strength, Levia will know no deceit. It extends further than refusing to lie on her own behalf; Levia will actively out the existence of any lie she is aware of. She will permit omissions of truth and white lies, except when directly confronted or confused of doing so, which can lead to the equivalent of a full avowed confession from her.
• Burdensome Lunacy - Levia, despite having been awakened to certain aspects of her own virtue, is still bound by many of the more unfortunate aspects of her strict, traditional religious upbringing. One of the more prominent aspects of her original life and the new ways of living in purgatory that have overlapped is the notion that mankind is to propagate and spread across the earth, and therefore even before her duty to find the Herald of Light and serve as Seeker, it is her duty to bear children upon the world. Thus giving way to the nearly intolerable and nigh-impracticable efforts by her to find willing suitors by whom to become pregnant, and then to carry and bear children - whilst simultaneously waging a horrid and eternal battle with the malevolent forces of the void itself.

The Questor's Strengths

• No Man Wields Such Power - By some twist of providence, Levia is profoundly adept not only with the Partisan and Estoc, but is perhaps one of the finest mortal warriors in purgatory. If she is not the most adept with the blade, she is certainly amongst the most balanced and able-bodied of fighters not only in skill and talent, but also in ingenuity and experience brought on through many lifes - and deaths - worth of battling the forces of the adversary, great and small.
• Such Impossible Reserves - Levia's intolerable and backwards mental state has the noteworthy advantage of making her mind and soul nearly unassailable by most methods of corruption and temptation, as well as making her nearly immune to efforts of intimidation and coercion (with the notable exception of those who prove low enough to exploit her deferential mindset), which is what allowed her to garner her initial fame during her early tenure as a Seeker - she knows not any despair or suffering, and there is no enemy so great that might cause her to balk. She is certitude manifest. To her, victory is not only inevitable and certain, but preordained, and these dark times are but a passing moment of concession to the forces of darkness to permit them some small token of solace. Almost nothing could change her outlook in this way, and as such she can act as a beacon of invigorating confidence, bolstering others and steadying the nerves in trying times simply by existing.

The Questor's Virtues

• Violence: VII
• Fortitude: VII
• Soul: III
• Passion: V (+I)
• Perception: II
• Command: II

[Dusty]

Corbric Elgebar

Character

A sturdy man of Swiss descendent with fair skin and hair, Corbric Elgebar is a sharp intellectual and not easily fooled. He grew bold in his childhood home amongst the mountainous ranges surrounding his homeland, learning the ways of the sword from his family, in line with their honorable traditions. Like many of his kinsmen Corbric joined a mercenary regiment at a young age, and was well proclaimed for his skill and dedication. He was a determined man, even in his youth and low ranking, and this was noticed by his superiors. When the Church of the Light called upon the best of Swiss mercenaries to bolster their defenses in the Holy City, Corbric was one of the first to answer the call. Rumors were spreading of dark times to come, and Corbric could think of no better place to serve his calling then amongst the ranks of the Papal Guard. Alas as he grew swiftly in skill, rank, and prestige but even so he deteriorated morally, growing lax and greedy, mired in corruption and self-indulgence. His own decadence became his undoing, and now he is a forsworn of the Papal Guard for the Church of the Light, and a broken man because of it. He has grown bitter, cold, and violent, and though he still retains the old bark of command and mental sharpness, his manner of good natured forgiveness and cheer has all but vanished. His face has become gaunt and pale, and his eyes remain haunted by his personal demons. The horrors of purgatory has wrought him a chiseled body, and though he still stands tall, and speaks boldly Corbric’s very nature is torn by shame, which weighs upon him like an iron yoke.

Cardinal Sin

There in the glory of his post and rank, with his word of honor and sense of duty binding him to remain ever vigilant, money lent him to look the other way. Indeed, where naught could slip, nor batter, nor break past the sharp eyed falcon who guarded the pathways to heaven, gold succeeded. Greed is what broke the city of Rome, cast it into the fires of the ravaging army and smote down the brave men who sought in vain to protect it. Never in his wildest dreams did Corbric Elgebar anticipate the sacking of Rome and the devastation of the Holy Church of Light be brought about by his actions, or more accurately, inaction. He fought side by side with his men straight unto death, as Captain of the Swiss Guard he stayed until all others fell, and he could fight no more, until his heart beat its very last. But it was not enough to gain penitence for his disgraceful actions. When the purse of golden coins hit his desk, and the simple message requested only that he leave the little eastern water gate unguarded Crobric, to his everlasting torment, complied. After all, only smugglers used the water gates, and this wasn’t the first occurrence of a bribe and request passing his desk. Corbric did as he always did, adjusted the schedule of the guardsmen and promptly forgot of the incident. Until the morn of the following day when the forsaken armies stormed the western approach and barracks and slaughtered there two hundred of Corbic’s loyal men in their beds. By then it was too late, and the remaining one hundred and eighty-nine formed a desperate last defense on the hill top, until all were dead to the last man. The corruption of one man, the greed of one, cast down the city of the light in flame. Forever was, and will be his eternal shame, Captain of the Guard, Corbric Elgebar.

Disadvantages

• Eternal Shame – Cursed to never truly die by blade or poison Corbric is forced to bear the yoke of his greatest shame. It cripples him, both mentally and physically torturing his soul and weakening his body.
• Dishonored, Forsworn – His name stained, and the honor of his station blackened by his terrible failure, Corbric suffers the life he deserves. Many who do not know of his tale would consider Corbric a coward for surviving the battle for Rome. Those who know of the terrible truth deem him instead a traitor to his Corps and an oath breaker to the Church of the Light. Neither serve Corbric well in gaining allies or friends.
• Katagelophobia – In light of his sullied history, Corbric is terrified of anyone speaking truth to his past, and cannot hope to function under the scorn and public ridicule accompanying such an intrusion of his dark antiquity.
• Distrust In All and Self – Corbric cannot trust himself to not repeat his mistakes once more. He is convinced, that repentance and death’s mercy are all that can save him from betraying his oath yet again. Dread strikes deep at his heart and soul, and he fails to trust himself or any others, to remain loyal in the face of temptation.

Advantages

• Tactical Insight – Once the commander of the Papal Guard, and an elite warrior Corbric is well versed in the ancient art of waging war and battle, in both the macro and micro. He has keen awareness of combat situations, and how to properly respond.
• A Guardsman’s Eye – Affectionately dubbed the Falcon at the Gate, Corbirc was well known in his years standing watch and otherwise for being near impossible to sneak past or dupe. This talent makes him difficult to surprise, and leaves him acutely aware of his surroundings.

Virtues

• Violence: IV (+I) = V
• Fortitude: IV
• Soul: I
• Passion: I
• Perception: IX
• Command: VI

Img link

i.imgur.com/wVRh0q0.png

[MegaOscarPwn]

Fernando Tenorio

_{Fernando Tenorio}

"The greatest thing, you will ever learn...is just to love, and be loved in return."

Fernando was born in 1478, in the amazingly beautiful city of Sevilla, as he was just 14 years when Cristobal Colón found the Americas, although he did not care for such triviliaties: since he was born, in a mildly rich family at the lowest rank of nobility in the Spanish Kingdom (which was the hidalgo), with a simple house for themselves and plenty of money for the younglings to spend in whatever hobbies they had...and boy, I tell you there was a lot to do at that age, in that city, with that ammount of dosh. Having finished his education in Literature and Language, the soon-to-be-poet was clearly interested in the themes of truth, beauty, freedom and most importantly: love. He was quite a bohemian for his time, and sure enough he attracted the attention of many people that did not approve of his view towards the Church or even the Kings at that time, and the man had to run away towards Madrid.

Still in pursuit of the themes for his poetry readings and open debates, Fernando had to turn into a life that mixed pleasure, pride and violence all in one place: duelling men for their women, in an attempt to find the so-called true love, and only growing his own ego as he watched many fall before him, mere peasants that tried to best an University Student, an artist, a man of virtue! Or so he thought. Karma is, as some might call it, a bitch, and Fernando suddenly knew about that when he got imprisoned due to having killed a nobleman of higher rank than him in a dishonorable duel, clearly not wanting to lose. The time in prison had made him a more calmed and respectful man, looking to mend his lustful and prideful ways once he was out of that rotten cell.

But the world ended before he could.

He came out to a broken, a horrific world...one that did not know the true meaning of either love, beauty, freedom or truth.



Fernando was quite a prideful and lustful individual in the search for the best themes to write poetry and novels about, clearly being the first true bohemian of his time. While trying to get rid of those horrible desires, the Writer is still able to be baited into doing some things merely because "there is a beautiful girl in need of X" or "your honor depends on said thing". It is clear that he has made some improvements, but deep inside him, those lustful and prideful needs do still have some control over him.

He made them believe he loved them, attempting to find whoever it was that could complete the empty husk that the writer was without the most important thing of all: love. But in his quest for it, he forgot about the most important fact when searching someone to spend your miserable and yet exotic life with, and that is honesty. Fernando did not like them, at least not for long, instead taking advantage of their bodies for his own desires before realizing that he was not looking for something akin to those girls, leaving them restless and worried about their newly met Bohemian as Fernando himself just searched for more and more people to love and share his life with.

• Although he is attempting to change, he is still prideful and may be baited into fighting something that he is not able to win on his own.
• Women have a clear advantage over him, since the search for true love is still infested with some left-over lust that he shall try to men.
• As all, he is quite an emotional and dramatic person, which is handy when he tries to persuade someone...but things may have a bigger effect on him.
• He's thin, making him frail and vulnerable to most physical attacks.

• Years and years of seducing women and sweet-talking others have made him gain a silver tongue, obviously knowing how to impress someone or even play around with them if need be.
• As well as a sweet talker, Fernando was trained in the art of war as any other nobleman of his age, and due to the experience gained from duelling with others, he is quite fierce with a espada ropera (a rapier) in hand.
• He's quite a thin build, and although that'd maybe make him more fragile and frail to attacks, he has been able to take advantage of his own mobility and agile body in a lot of ways: such as running away from the guards and whatnot.

• Violence: 4 (+1 from being a male) = 5
• Fortitude: 2
• Soul: 3
• Passion: 10
• Perception: 2
• Command: 4

[Fetzen]

Oddur Olafsson

_{O D D U R O L A F S S O N}

Oddur was born 1483 in Reykjavík, Iceland. At that point in time the settlement was hardly more than yet another small alotment of peasants and fishermen as it was a common sight in the sparsely populated area. While climatic conditions and volcanic activity are special properties of this part of the world that certainly have made their respective contributions, it primarily have been men's own folly and political struggle between his own people, Denmark, Norway and England that have made life more difficult than might have been necessary. At least the last swiping move of the black plague had been a few decades before his time.

With Europe craving for alternative sources of food, the young man did what many of his country's people did and started exploiting the abundant and ubiquitous maritime resources around the island. Fish was the thing at that time and the steady presence on boats and ships has taught him respect for nature as well as made him strong. His parents always cared as much for him as they could, allowing his body to thrive and grow up to an impressively large man. Despite all the constraints things could have been significantly worse: Absolutistic and foreign monarchs who'd care about nothing else than themselves and their own country while pressing their 'colonies' as hard as they can ? Strangers coming from the deep south and reintroducing the element of war and violence into this remote place ? Those two would have come much later if it had not been for the end of the world as he had known it.

Originally Oddur had hatched the idea of emigrating towards Europe. Italy, France, Spain -- those were the countries where true progress was made. Iceland was no good place for someone who was a fisherman to make a living but who was asking for science in order to have a life. Well... one can say that he ultimately has managed to leave his homeland. The sole problem is that neither he nor everything around him are what they used to be.




Sometimes the sea can be very rough. Sometimes an unanticipated wave, an ill-prepared crew, a rotten vessel or a lack in skill can cause an accident. Some accidents result in loss of life, but one resulting in loss of comradeship is something rare. Still it was exactly what happened to Oddur. One day he was out on the sea with his near life-long friend, Sigtýr, and another crewmember. His friend was tossed overboard with the other man standing nearby. They both tried to rescue him, but the stream of water rammed his skull against the solid hull and ultimately his body disappeared somewhere beneath the large boat.

Could the other man have reacted faster and gained a hold of Sigtýr ? Could he maybe have given the advice to avoid going that particular, narrow and dangerous way in that unsteady situation ? Within minutes questions invaded Oddur's mind accompanied by anger about what he deemed to be pure incompetence. An argument unfolded in the midst of the severe rain and Oddur virtually shouted himself into rage. It came what had to come: That iron hook had just been resting so comfortably near him, but metal can turn a hit that only would have hurt very hard into a bone-breaking experience. By bad luck, the other man's heart was impaled by a broken rib.

Oddur has never told anyone. He claimed that both men had been taken by the sea and noone ever became suspicious. Only his conscience has been suffering since then, but still he doesn't talk openly about this outbreak of wrath.

• The abscence of war in his former life has not exactly helped in molding his mind into a host of combat skills. What he can physically do with his sword he has learned after the beginning of the purgatory -- and it certainly isn't much.
• He's a damn big fellow. Impressively tall and muscled, but also with lots of food and drinking having left a thin, but soft layer around his waistline he's neither the fastest nor the most agile.
• The sun is something he doesn't like. Not that much of a problem in regions as high in the north as iceland, but his albino skin still has a massive tendency to itch and burn even if the exposure is rather short. It causes distraction and induces pain. Also his eyesight might be impaired in such situations.
• Born in 1483 he pratically was taken out of his original life at an age of 19. Oddur still looks halfway like a boy in his late youth. He can't boast with a lot of social experience, is easily distracted by his own natural curiosity and still doesn't know much about the world outside of Iceland.

• Him not being skilled with a sword, halberd or bow doesn't mean that he's defenseless or has no bite. It seems as if fate -- in its own, strange way -- has granted him an amount of knowledge he has desired and that allows him to go beyond the physical domain. He could tell a lot of evil creatures how to improve in the occult and, given the material, he could make much more out of his equipment than just solid pieces of metal. He has already done so with his sword which he primarily doesn't use to try and make a stand in close quarters, but as a means of channeling power and releasing destructive energy of different kinds against the foes the world provides in such an abundance.
• It definitely isn't a match for a decent weapon and the knowledge how to use it, however with his size he is a beast himself. Better try to fist your enemy or run over him than just standing there and doing nothing. Not always your comrades are readily available to help you out of an unexpected situation. Also if something needs to be lifted or chopped out of the way one could ask him to do it.

• Violence: 9 (+1 for being male) = 10
• Fortitude: 4
• Soul: 8
• Passion: 1
• Perception: 3
• Command: 0

[VeridianSeeker]

Dobromil

_{Dobromil Vavrinec Zivon}

(credit “Katorus” on DeviantArt.)

Born in the Kingdom of Bohemia, Dobromil was one son of many. He hailed from a long line of impoverished commoners, being born to dirt, to work the dirt. His only true friends were his many brothers, the small group of youths relying on each other to scrape by in the cruel world. Their parents were regarded as equals to the brothers, all each scrambling to live in an equal manner of desperation, and thus that was how they lived.

Knowing that life could not continue in the fashion that it began the brothers slowly dispersed across the world, marrying into families and trades, doing whatever it took to leave and forget what they came from. Dobromil eventually found himself alone as a young man, with everything he should have had by now not in his possession. He did not live a conventional life, he did not follow the path most took, he couldn’t afford to and now he paid the fee. He was destined to walk a path that ebbed oddly by the traditional, but could never quite be.

He often wondered if his brothers ever felt the way he began to feel. Every time he looked at himself, he knew he was different. In taverns full of friends he felt alone. His true feelings were never voiced, his true desires never revealed, he felt no one could quite understand. In the past he had opened up, but it had never fruitioned past disappointment. In himself he had to find contentment, and contentment he couldn’t find. While the world owed the errant brother of poverty nothing, he couldn’t help but want what others seemed to naturally have...

And want he did. His life lead him down many paths, each trying to fill the growing void in his spirit. He knew he had skills, and he used them to get what he wanted. He manipulated those around him, he lied, he cheated, he harmed, but always with a smile. He knew the truth inside him was always met with disappointment so he let lies out instead. He told people what they wanted and he got what he wanted. No matter what he gained, he couldn’t feel satisfaction, and one might call him greedy for this, but it wasn’t greed.

Onward he went with life and he noticed other things, such as love, families, kinship, and he longed for it. Days would go by in which he would hold his head and cry to the night sky, saddened that he couldn’t have what others had. He wanted love, he wanted a family, to be understood, to have a partner in this life, but he was older now, years past when he was supposed to meet his bride. Still he craved it. Some might call him lustful, but that wasn’t what drove him.

He had to be strong, and so strong he was. He boasted, he flew the colours of confidence. He never let his guard down. He strove to be the best, to be better than those around him. Perhaps through deed he could forget his insignificance, perhaps through action he could forget his desires. He saw what others did, and he craved it, and so he would try to do them better, for better or worse. Some may call him proud, but that wasn’t the truth.

No, while he held greed, lust and pride in his hands, he knew that wasn’t what drove him to compare himself to others, that wasn’t what lit the fire in his stomach or kept him up at night. He wanted love like others had, he wanted to be recognized like the greats around him, he wanted comfort like a normal person may find, to be able to enjoy his friends, to be able to enjoy his life, he just wanted what any human wants, but in this human condition he found himself slave to the most devious of all sins, envy.

Nights would flow by where he would contemplate in the moonlight the nature of his sin, and what he could possibly do. Now, many deaths have passed him by and many thought filled nights have occupied his unconventional mind, and at some point he had finally broken himself in a fit of guilt. He swore off sin, he swore off what had driven him this far, he swore to change, and thus he took his own burdens upon himself in hopes that one day he can forgive himself of being human, of being jealous, and perhaps one day he may find some answers to the questions that began this all, and perhaps it is the Light who held them. Maybe she will be able to settle his guilt, tell him how wrong he was, what terrible things he had done, what was just being human and what was being evil, and what he can do to feel contentment.

Taking his burden he took to seeking her out. He let his body and mind be punished by the malicious purgatory around him and he let his vices grow hungry. He would no longer feed them at any cost, in hopes to starve that dark side of humanity that dwells within us all.

• Sworn not to harm. Dobromil refuses to physically hurt anything living, the guilt in his chest not allowing him to do so, least wrath be fed, and his sins grown. This has cost him a lot of torture in the hellscape the world now dwells in, but he will not bend to sin. Because of this, his ability to be wrathful and commit violence has withered to almost nothing.
• Sworn not to lie. Only truth and honesty will Dobromil speak. No matter the punishment, he has sworn to his guilt not to add to the long list of lies that burdens him. This has cost him many years of patience and even some lives, but he will not give in. Because of this, his old silvertongue is now a rusty spoon, blunt and only dishing out bitter truths that no one is thrilled to hear.
• Lonely. Some curses can’t be cast away by simply swearing to be better. Somethings must be lived with and will never be lifted from you as a reward. To expect such things is foolish in life. No matter how good you may perceive yourself, if it is innate, it is innate, and such the curse of loneliness follows Dobromil. Even when surrounded by companions, he will never find a connection that is true, and he will suffer for it.
• Conflicted. Even with his goals set straight he often fights with himself. He still has desires, he still has needs and wants, and often he thinks through each and every feeling to make sure it is not malicious or selfish, to avoid sin. This is a lot for one mind to do, and can leave him exhausted or unsure.
• An acceptance made in distress. To add to the loneliness of Dobromil, is his acceptance that he is alone. He will not go out of his way to accumulate friends, nor does he find much purpose in anything superficial. He will willingly work in a team and pull his weight, but feels no obligation to tease himself with the ideas of true companionship.
• The Cynic. Cynicism is the price of philosophy. The more Dobromil ponders his situation and the ways of the world, the more bitter he finds himself. While he does not think himself above it, he feels that a cynical conclusion is appropriate when thinking about others. Because of this, despite his own rigorous self discipline and goals, he will not go out of his way to correct another, nor will he attempt to pay any mind to their own actions. If it doesn’t involve him, it doesn’t involve him. This is to not say he is selfish, or completely without compassion.
• Jaded. The step after the cynic, Dobromil has dwelled far too long on the bed of nails that is his own experiences and thus formed a thick callused cocoon in which he lays. There is little that excites him anymore, little to expect, and little to care for. He does however, make an exception for all things knowledge.
• Depressed. If you hadn’t guessed it, here it is. Dobromil is a classic example of depression. Whether it started this or merely was a symptom throughout time is uncertain. Either way, Dobromil experiences the many folded effects of depression, with only his aspiration of redemption, answers, self-aware stubbornness and hunger for the truth moving him forward.

• Will.If there is any tool that Dobromil relies on, it is will. He is stubborn to let it break, and he nurses it at every opportunity. He will not allow himself to be taken again by sin, he will not add to the dark pool that is his past. Because of this, he will tolerate any amount of pain both physical and mental to remain on the path of redemption, and expose himself to terrible punishment without hesitation or flinching if it means staying true to himself and his cause. He has died many times for this arguably foolish yet noble gesture.
• Awareness. He knows what he did, and he knows what he is doing now. He has felt his guilt, and felt the weight of his crimes. He will not try to justify his mistakes but neither will he sell himself short or allow them to be blown further out of proportion.
• Knowledge. His jaded and cynical behavior has all but killed his chances at socializing, but in turn it opened up his time to studies, and study he did. Dobromil has immersed himself in the humanities and the occult, soaking up any information he can find. Perhaps this is simply an excuse to think about something other than his personal damnation, or perhaps he truly has a natural interest. Luckily, some of his studies had ventured into the medicinal fields, aiding him greatly for when he or a friend decides to turn the other cheek at a very violent individual.
• Hymn. Through his studies and his endless journey, Dobromil has obtained the knowledge and ability to perform hymns under certain conditions. He has specialized in self healing and the tending of other’s injuries, his own vast physical and mental torments presenting him with experience in treating many different types of wounds. Also, a little light in the endless dark never hurt, until it attracts something.

• Violence: I (Man)
• Fortitude: X
• Soul: X
• Passion: I
• Perception: IV
• Command: 0

[Nib]

Alistair Lynch

_{Alistair Lynch}

Before the dark times, Alistair served on a merchant vessel upon the seas. He made enough money to keep his wife back home comfortable in preparation for the birth of their child. Unfortunately he was away most of the time on one voyage or another. He missed the birth of his daughter, but when he was home with them he made the most of his time. He was content with his life until Hell came to Earth. With it came abominations and ruin, and those who worshipped the beasts crawled from the shadows like mad dogs. These same mad dogs butchered his wife and daughter for some perverse ritual. That was the day Alistair snapped. He suddenly knew he had to find the Herald. She would bring his wife and daughter back to him. She would right all the wrongs with the world now.

He left his simple home behind, selling anything of value that he would part with and poured what money he had into funding his travels. He used what connections he made while sailing to meet the right people and soon expanded what small web he had at first. He hunted any clue, any whisper he heard of the Herald or strange occult rituals. He became obsessed with finding the hidden truths behind the rituals so he would be the one to find the Herald and beg her to right the wrongs. He met others like him on his travels, those who lost people to groups of men-turned-beast who performed rituals by sacrificing others. Three individuals in particular chose to follow his example and dedicated themselves to finding any clues in Alistair’s name and report to him via dead drops spread throughout the land. They also leave him resources of varying degree in these dead drops to aid him in his journey.

Greed and Envy are perhaps the closest of the Sins. They tend to walk hand-in-hand when they visit the mortals and tempt them. They once visited Alistair; they drove him toward working on the merchant vessel. They disguised themselves as comfort and stability for his pregnant wife. He believed their lies, going on any voyage proposed, spending time away from his wife, missing the birth of his daughter and then most of her life; all because he wanted to provide for them. His sins fitted him with blinders when he discovered the vessel he worked on was involved with smuggling. The extra money the vessel earned went to his family and their comfort, so where was the harm?

While he worked, his family never feared empty bellies or discomfort, but none of that mattered when he was away on another voyage and the crazed men came. They revelled in the Hell brought to Earth and began performing blood oaths and rituals. They came upon Alistair’s family and made them the next sacrifices used as fuel for their perverse practices. If not for his obsession with giving his family what he believed was most important rather than actually being with them, he would have perhaps been able to protect them from their fate. Now, he seeks forgiveness by seeking the Herald so he can beg her to bring them back and bring light back to the world he knew.

• Untrusting - Alistair refuses to fully put his faith in the hands of others.
• Emotionally Detached - He sees others only as tools to use in achieving his goals and cannot truly care for anyone else after his wife’s death.
• Selfish - Alistair is selfish in the sense that he is most concerned with his own survival in order to find the Herald of Light; he is perfectly fine with stepping on others and allowing people to die in the pursuit to find the Herald.
• Weak of Arm - Alistair is physically weak when it comes to any sort of fighting and must rely more upon his speed and guile.

• Connected - Alistair’s followers come in the form of spies and scouts with their own connections that form a web of information at his disposal.
• Guile - Alistair is clever when it comes to solving problems and dealing with unsavory individuals in such a way that he need not face them head on. He faces threats though methods such as: ambush, poison, or merely avoidance of necessary.

• Violence: 3 (2 + 1)
• Fortitude: 3
• Soul: 7
• Passion: 4
• Perception: 7
• Command: 3