"If you kill a man, you scorn his wife. If you kill his wife, you scorn her child. If you kill her child, you scorn his village. If you kill his village, you scorn the kingdom. If you kill the kingdom you scorn an empire. If you kill an empire, then who is left?"
It was moments before he would have entered the building, the dirt of the sidewalk crunching comfortably beneath his armored toes. The dirt lapping slightly up between the crevices of his toes, the cool dirt relieved that lingering warmth of muscular overuse. This peaceful moment broken by his internal contest of psychological dominance, that draconic whispering and the groaning hunger of his bloodthirsty axe. Piercing every part of his mind save his senses, and they brought themselves to silence when they'd heard what he heard.
Evidently a Helicopter had came and gone in the time he was arguing amongst himself, they'd landed and dropped someone off before leaving into the distance. It, them, he thought aloud. "Why didn't I notice that? Why didn't we notice that?" There was a moment of visceral and thorough confusion as they realized that they'd somehow managed to drown out noticeable and terribly loud noises through their bickering. He shook his head and thumped the mask above his temple with the butt of his sword. "Stay quiet then, we need this blood, otherwise you go hungry for another indefinite period. If they run, I can't kill them if I can't figure where they've gone."
They quieted down once more as Shin shifted his position, lowering his blade tip to near the ground. Hovering both the axe and sword a few inches above the road as he moved towards the newcomer. That singular globe in his eye socket rolled and focused sharply on the approaching man, green swallowing black as his pupil turned nigh invisible. Armed in some degree he noticed, his eye turned up the handle. For a moment he'd assumed it was a bo staff or spear, a potentially deadly weapon. This was not the case, and every voice inside his head burst into raucous laughter and mocking jeers. None that the foe would hear, but they were there. 'Farming tools, just like tha-'
"Don't mention them, worm!" Shin salivated as he screamed. The former assassin launched himself forward into a sprint from his slow forward crawl. Each footfall grew louder as his speed increased, the wind rushed past his ears as distance between them rapidly decreased. The Left Eye scanned up and down each step, looking through the entirety of this young man. His generally clean manner of dress reminded Shin of someone, but he couldn't exactly place the memory. It was painful, sharp agonizing headaches ran across his brain as ran towards the soon to be dead man.
He threw his head backwards in a bestial roar, an animal howl that rang its muffled echo across the wheatfield. Shin's feet dug deeply, the ground itself crunching beneath the raw force between each of his footfalls. He brought himself up to the absolute peak of his attainable speed in just a few moments, the weapons rattling in protest of the rapid movements. Behind himself he held the blade in a trailing tail guard and the raised the axe up to elbow height, keeping it level with the ground even though the rest of him was shifting with each movement. The blade of which was pointed outwards and roughly guarding the bulk of his left hand side.
Within twenty feet of his opponent his right forearm ejected a spine downward into the ground and anchored itself there, stopping his movement almost entirely. Except for one part of his body, his right leg. He slammed his right foot into the ground and pushed outward with the smallest toe facing out towards with the young man. This was all for show, as he stopped himself in the middle of the road he made his real attack. One that no sane individual would have done. His left leg stayed where he stopped and bent slightly at the knee.
With a movement that would have made the gunslinger formerly in ownership of the Hanged Whore impressed, a pair of secondary arms forming just beneath his primary arms reached for the gun at his hip. Whipping it from his body holster with speed significantly greater than even the fastest human gunslinger. With a normal holster he would have been delayed a moment, but as his own flesh is his holster he withdrew it without delay. Drawing it directly forward through his hip and into a hip firing lineup. Even as he drew it he was primed to fire. Right hand well placed on the grip, thumb wrapped nicely around the handle. His finger through and held on the trigger, it would not fire without the hammer being pulled and released. His left hand placed in a near mirrored position but with the thumb atop the hammer and his fingers wrapped underneath his right hand's fingers.
Shin ran his thumb down the hammer and pulled it to its full extension. This began what amounted to a blade swing with his bullets. Resetting his thumb between each shot. These bullets were loud and cruel, the scream of their spiralling path was made bolstered by their thin black trails. Eight shots in sequence fired off to the right of Dias and all the way off to the left. Cutting an even line across the plane of the young man's solar plexus, each shot placed evenly three inches apart as he trailed his gun's path. To one who could potentially see this motion, it would look as though a pair of arms had simply appeared with gun in hand, fanned the hammer as he swung the gun like a blade and holstered.
All eight shots emptied from his gun, arms disappearing into his body and concealing the gun within his armored flesh. All without lowering his paired guards, he stood there inspired at the work he'd done.
Availability: Available most days. Unavailable from 1pm to 11pm EST
Name: Shin Zhou Age: 652 Sex: Male Race: Human/Godslave Height: 5'8" (6'1" with Horns) Weight: 310 lbs
Physical Description: Shin is a man of average height, however, that is the only thing average about him. Beneath his clothing is a body coated from top to bottom in thick scar tissue, this tissue hides an inhumanly fit body. His shoulders are rather broad, though not unnaturally so. Should one see behind his mask they would see a hand shaped scar on his face, splitting his top and bottom lip and crossing over where his right eye used to be. Where his right eye should be is not but an empty socket.
The handprint overlaps his hairline and leaves two large chunks of hair missing from the right half of his head. It's a burn scar, so the flesh is warped and deformed, as well as grossly discolored.
On his right arm there is a new scar, where his right arm was cut cleanly off, and then reattached. The flesh is folded and contorted in an odd way, and there's an odd corkscrew shape to the flesh where the skin has fused back into itself.
Shin no longer has need for clothing, as his body is coated from head to toe in jetty black armor. A thorny suit of plated material that is topped with outward curving horns. The suit conceals his body entirely, but clings to him naturally. As not to hide his musculature, but rather to enhance its appearance.
Adorning his head is a black iron mask with several leather straps that hold it into place. Behind the mask you can see his left eye, the sclera of it is stained red from an eye injury in the past.
Psychological Description: Shin was once a singular minded entity, obsessed with solely improving his physical form. This has since changed, and the warrior once known as the demon of the battlefield is now known as the Battlefiend. A blood magic fueled demon with an obsession with bloodshed. Driven totally mad by his adventures in the multiverse, psychotic break, and attempted possession by an evil weapon. Now he is relatively silent and brooding, though some remains of who he was before still linger.
Those remains are the laughing and tormenting assassin who taunts his foes who dare fight back, rather than sit down and die. No foe is too great or small to be insulted. His personality has devolved into a very primal headspace, where survival and feasting has become all he thinks about. When the next battle arrives is all that consumes him, where his next source of blood is what drives him.
But some inkling remains, something shines beneath this darkness. As though some part of a broken man is still trying to fight to return to who he was before.
Abilities: Physical- Biological Immortality: Granted to him by his godly master, Shin's body has become immune to the effects of aging and disease. Every cell in his body is cycled out as soon as they die, allowing his body to survive grizzly wounds and not fear the consequences of death unless Shock were to set in. Within a few minutes Shin can regenerate a third degree burn or similarly grievous wound. Scarring is impermanent, but the area is still of comparable sensitivity, even though the wound is gone.
Durable Hide: Hardened through innumerable battles, countless scars, and endless regrowth. Shin's skin has become hardened to the same density and strength as leather. His fingertips are as hard as bone and as course as sandpaper. This allows him to survive significantly greater beatings than normal men. A blow that would break a man in half, such as being struck by a car moving at highway speeds, is only enough to push him aside. A blade that could bisect a man, he can catch barehanded. Shin's body is strong enough to withstand even the most brutal of injuries.
Beyond Peak Human Ability: Like a blade folded and forged, Shin's body has been broken down and rebuilt uncountably over the course of six and a half centuries. The results of his training has built him into a devastating living weapon. An obsessively violent man, he is like a predator. Naturally honed to the peak of ability for one reason and one reason alone. To kill as efficiently as possible.
+Strength- The human body grows stronger with adversity, every injury makes it better. The old addage is true, what doesn't kill you makes you stronger. Shin's body has unnaturally dense muscle, built up from more training than is possible in a single human life. In fact, built up over the course of several human lives. He is capable of lifting overhead, holding, and throwing two long tons of weight. In numbers that is 3,480 bs of weight. Due to his incredible stamina, he can hold this overhead indefinitely. With the suit embedded into his body, his ability to lift extra weight is not quite enhanced, however he can shoulder nearly 7,000 lbs of weight if it were dropped on him. This is only a momentary shouldering, and inevitably his body will give out before his will would. +Speed and Agility- Cardio and athleticism are important part of physical training. Shin takes his body as seriously as the Vatican takes the Pope. His body is a temple, and it must be maintained in every way shape and form. His legs are as toned as his upper body, giving him incredible mobility. He can run at high speed, 45 miles per hour. Every footstep can tear up turf while in full sprint. As well, he has agility to dwarf the ability of any human gymnast. Able to perform several aerial flips from a standing position, he even has the ability to wall run for short periods and wall jump. Enhanced by the suit, he's capable of clinging to walls by virtue of his toes and fingers digging into the surface. +Stamina- The most fortuitous byproduct of his ascension to immortality is his work towards sustaining his energy in a fight. Even the most grueling and time consuming fight can't exhaust his stamina, unlike a normal human he can fight for hours upon hours upon hours. Able to fight for almost an entire 24 hour period without end, without rest. It might be his godly blessing, or perhaps it is his religious fanaticism towards lethal efficiency. But the only way to keep Shin down is by crippling him. +Tolerance- Even Shin himself doesn't know whether his pain tolerance is due to his religious fanaticism or physical hardening, but the effect is the same regardless. Shin will stand on a broken leg, punch with a broken arm, and talk with a broken jaw. He refuses to show pain, it's to break the confidence of his target. If he shows them that they aren't making any progress, they might feel like they aren't doing any work. The mask he wears helps with this feat, as it conceals his face from revealing any pained expression. Only his eye, in its constant motions, is visible behind it.
Mental- Accelerated Thought: Shin's mind is four times faster than a human's mind, his mastery of critical on the fly analysis in combat is terrifying. He can predict where his foe is going to end up the moment that they begin to move. Spotting subtle differences in behavior, calculating the necessary amount of weight to put behind his blows after landing a single punch. On the battlefield he is a supercomputer designed to kill, and he will outthink and outmanouver anyone he meets in combat.
The Left Eye: Though he only has the one eye, it is among his most valuable assets. Shin's left eye can percieve images as they happen, unlike human eyes which have a delay. Able to percieve every single movement faster than his conscious mind can keep up, Shin's eye can track any number of objects moving at any speed within his field of vision. As well, it is telescopic up to the horizon, obviously it cannot see anything beyond. His eye can zoom in and out faster than his conscious mind as well. A normal human would struggle to percieve so fast, but Shin has learned to compensate with his superhumanly fast thought processes. Breaking down every single moment millisecond by millisecond, giving him an almost mechanical understanding of his opponent's appearance and movement. The eye is disturbing and bizarre to one who knows how eyes should move, it seems to behave akin to a chameleon's eye. As it moves constantly, the pupil expands and contracts, and never does it blink unconsciously.
Equipment: The Black Armor: Formerly, the Black Staff. This was Shin's soul weapon and his pride and joy, an indominable tool that had no equal. Until it met its match, and Shin's very soul was comprimised in their battle. The weapon fought against him, as his mind had broken into two pieces. That of the indominable fiend of battle, the demon on the battlefield, the assassin. And that of the broken warrior, whose only obsession now was to seek out and absorb magical weapons, in the hopes of overcoming his roaring inadequacies against foes with magical powers. In his desperation, and lunacy, the black staff consumed his body, and embedded itself within his flesh. Converting him from a normal living thing into a genuinely demoniac presence, an onyx fleshed warrior with armor fused directly with his skin. It enhances his already impressively high durability, nearly doubling what he can take physically. The fusion with his skin embedded pins of tungsten hard material into his bones, and a layer of hard plastic material onto his skin. Coating that is a steel hard layer of plates and connective threads that serve as an emulation of plate armor. Designed to not hinder mobility in any meaningful way.
The suit has sacrificed a majority of its offensive capabilities in exchange for mobility and defense. The perfect consistency of the material makes it perfect for deflecting and defending blows, as the entirety of the armor seems to ripple upon contact with threats. This is because the suit dissipates the force of the blow or the energy projected at him, across the entire surface. Not nullifying it, but weakening it. The point of contact can be broken through, given sufficient force or power. Not perfect defensively, but as close to perfect as is possible.
The suit has not lost its ability to contact entirely separate planes of existence, as long as they are in the same "place". It can strike liquid and gas as well as it can solids, there is nothing immune to its strike. It too can strike out at metaphysical concepts and energy pulses, allowing Shin to protect himself with a directed strike or defensive manouver.
The transformative abilities of the staff are relegated solely to the hands, shoulders and spines across his body. With each of them serving an independent purpose on their own.
The hands and shoulders are connected to the Seven Weapons. The Seven Weapons are as much a part of him as the armor, and thus can pass harmlessly through his body without harming him. They are contained in blocky protrusions on his shoulders and upper back, and when he needs to swap his weapon out he absorbs the one in his hand for one on his back. This process is relatively fast, and allows for weapon changing mid swing to catch enemies off guard.
The hands are also capable of becoming or forming weapons themselves, though they rest in a state of armored gauntlets. The tips of the fingers and knuckles are lined with talons that are razor sharp and hard as steel. The weapons that it becomes are limited, as the suit is a constant strain of focus. The properties are set once the weapon is manifested, and only change when the weapon is changed. They are limited to steel hardness and relatively inflexible build, or leather toughness and a flexible build. With any combination of the two being readily available to him. These weapons carry the same properties as the suit.
The spikes are a direct evolution of his previous ability. The Wirefighter's Illusion. Shin, as a man of chinese origin, adores the wirefighting styling. The spikes are projections that allow him to move around a battlefield at breakneck speed, and defy gravity to some degree. They project off of his body at will, and plant themselves in any material they can find province in. As this is made of the same material as the suit, it can even embed itself in midair. Between these spikes runs a miniscule and nigh invisible wire of the same material. So thin that it cannot be touched, as the wind from the movement around whatever wishes to touch it will blow the wire away.
At Shin's thought, wires tighten and stretch instantly. Pulling him in the direction that he wishes to travel until he reaches the spike that he's traveling to. When he has reached a spike, the hole that it came from is plugged back up and he can refire that spike. Though he himself cannot maintain aerial suspension for very long, he can repeatedly move towards midair spikes to juggle himself.
The armor can also grow secondary fully functional limbs, they can come from any point on his body. As well they can serve as perfect replacements for his limbs should they be severed.
The Seven Weapons: In Shin's madness and descent into total lunacy at the hands of defeat after defeat by mages, he traveled across the multiverse in search of weapons that he could use to enhance his physical combat to counteract magic. These Seven Weapons are the results of his travels, and they have become twisted immitations of their former selves. Corrupted by the Black Armor's material and distorted by Shin's and Headsman's depraved minds. They are ugly weapons of blackened material with disturbing qualities.
They have also all inherited the ability of the Black Armor to contact anything, physical or metaphysical at will. Allowing them to deflect or at least partially block magical or otherwise nonconventional attacks.
Mistress/The Hanged Whore: Once the weapon of the most dangerous gunslinger that Shin had ever met, Jonah. The two met at sundown and their fight was brief, he was gone when Shin had awoken from his injuries. The Mistress and the finger were left on the ground where they had fallen, and Shin took the gun with him to his next hunt.
The Hanged Whore is a spiral barreled revolver with an octagonal cylinder, each face etched with the faces of everyone involved with the weapon hunt. The gun's barrel is gunmetal grey with a black wooden handle, the magical nature of the gun has left its makeup mostly untouched. Though the form has been altered by the Headsman's malign nature.
It has eight shots and regenerates four every two posts. These bullets are conventionally ballistic in nature, though nowhere near rifle velocity. They have a devilishly high rotation, due to the twist of the barrel. They don't have much punch force, and when they meet flesh they stick inside rather than penetrate fully. Due to the spin on the bullets, however, they leave terribly bleeding wounds.
The magical nature of the gun is in its decay of flesh around the wound, with infection and rot setting in within minutes. Rather than hours. As well, the bullet's spin makes it a fiendish little thing. Though it is not powerful, it clings to the target that it strikes. Propelled by unseen forces, it drills its angular tip into whatever it is touching. If armor, it will drill until it is through or is brushed away. If flesh, it will drill until thoroughly embedded in the body.(Can be brushed away if it strikes armor. Can be pulled out if it strikes flesh. Though it is a spinning bullet with bladed edges, it might cut the hand of the mover.)
Firebrand/Kaliburn: Wielded by a warrior of great stature, a warrior named Gran, this greatsword was implied to be the legendary Excalibur. Weapon wielded by the King Arthur, this sword was of legendary strength and could only be wielded by one who is proper heir to the throne of England. This blade was formerly a goldwood handled greatsword of silvery metal with an unchipped edge.
In the hands of Shin, it has become a straightsword of black metal with a silvery jagged edge. The handle is morphed into the imprint of his clawed fingers, and the gold has been blackened entirely. The Blade is neither unbreakable or impossibly sharp, though it regrows itself from blood drawn from wounds. It is two and a half feet long with a tapering width. At the base it is three inches and it tapers at the halfway point until it dwindles to a stabbing point.
Its most potent magical property is a grey flame that can engulf the sword, it is a sticky and putrid fire. Where once it was holy flame, now it is a virulent and evil fire that clings and burns softly. While unlike napalm or other magical fire, it is not powerful enough to burn you to a crisp. Instead, it clings and burns slowly. It is painful and difficult to get off of you, it leaves surface level burns and dries the flesh out. Causing it to flake and fall away.
The flames do not extend much from the blade, though a full bodied swing can project the flames a few feet away from it. Only three feet extension, and the flames quickly dissipate once they reach
Bleeding Edge/Viscera Impetus: Warrior chiefs are far and wide, and some are greater than others. Warrior Chief Orcinus was one fantastic fighter. His primary weapon was a deciet to draw attention to his greatsword, but the real weapon that had felled so many foes was a punchknife that he wore passively on his off hand. This weapon was a potent blood weapon that projects needles of blood from its edge when it is fed the blood of its foes.
Orcinus and his Bleeding Edge were unstoppable in combat until Shin fought against him with the fire of Kaliburn and rot of Hanged Whore. Back when they were known as Firebrand and Mistress. The combined power of these two weapons scarred the punchknife, and left it worthless. Until the Headsman corrupted it, like all the rest. It is six inches long and is perfectly triangular from the handle. The handle guards the wrists and helps drive the edge in deeper.
The blood needles are now boiling hot and can maintain a crystalized form when projected. These needles stick in and cook the flesh where they land, they slowly dissipate after a few moments. Cooling down rapidly as the heat is exuded and then crumbling into nothingness.
Talon/Drakeblood: Wielded by a dragonblood warrior of immense power, this was his sidearm and is a dagger of bizarre make. Said to be made from the bones of a dragon, animated by the soul of the same creature. It emulates a chainsaw by rotating small teeth around the edge of its blade. As the sidearm was the only weapon that Shin was able to lift, he stole this as a consolation prize. As he could not claim the true weapon of the holder.
Like all other weapons wielded by the battlefiend, even this has been twisted. The soul of the dragon has been absorbed by the Headsman, and the blade only spins when blood has been spilled across its teeth. It does not matter whose blood is spilled, and it does not stop until its grizzly task has been completed. The handle fits comfortably in the hand, and the blade is just short of a full foot long, it is a curved edge that remains the same thickness.
The rotating teeth are jagged and hooked, tearing the flesh when it passes through it. The blade sucks the blood from the torn flesh and feeds itself, growing faster and more dangerous with every swing that makes purchase. Though it was formerly made of pure bone and leather, it is now made of boneshards fused with the black material of the armor. As well, before there was only one row of teeth spinning downwards. Now there are two, one spinning upwards and one downward.
Antlion's Club: The decayed bone of a creature known as the Antlion. Not the insect, but a strange alien entity with powers of comparable to that of the natural predation patterns of the Antlion insect. When this weapon was ripped from the body of this predator, it was revealed that the wielder can rot the ground beneath their very feet.
Though it was simply the bone of the creature, wrenched from the body, it has become a club of bone encased in black material. The material wrapped around it exposes only a few spots of white bone, and where the bone is seen, so too are there spikes of bone. Making it a decent would be club. It's about two feet long, the head is about four inches around. The spikes are two inches long.
The rotted ground, when further mutated by the Headsman, allows the user to mimic the power of the Antlion as well. Not simply rotting the ground, but totally destroying all biological matter. Converting it directly into loose gritty mineral, and causing all of the air trapped within to be released. The air stinks of decay and the ground becomes incredibly difficult for anyone but the wielder to navigate through, as for a few seconds the ground pulls towards a point in the center of the pit of decayed ground.
Weather Wand/Catchpole of Erasure: A weapon wielded by one calling himself the Weather Master. An idiot with bizarre powers, and would certainly have been a more dangerous opponent were he not too obsessed with his magic powers. This catchpole was originally a windsock atop a tin pole, and was absurd in its design.
Twisted by the madness of the wielder, the poor weapon has been rebuilt into a spiralling steel pole with an open ring atop it. The ring is sharply bladed both inside and out, making it an excellent polearm. As well it can open the ring and grab hold like a claw, and snap shut around limbs and necks. Digging the blade deep inside of it. The handle is eight feet long, the ring is about nine inches in diameter.
However, the magic of this weapon is what makes it truly dangerous. When this weapon is swung and does not collide with anything, the ring erases any air it passes through. For a moment it lingers in the air as what appears to be a bubble, but then the air returns rapidly and creates an explosion of intense heat and pressure within the location where the air was removed.
The Headsman: A grizzly weapon, the axe wielded by the Headsman Rallon. Formerly an executioner's axe that had been used during the crusades. This blade cut the heads off of several thousand innocent men, women and children. Their anguished souls filled the blade with malignance and horrible intent, eventually the blade grew a mind of its own and sought the blood of the innocent to continue its blood feast.
This axe posessed the bodies of those who wielded it, and even the goliath Rallon was submitted unto its will. When Shin beheaded the headsman, the Axe was stolen by the lunatic. It fought and fought to steal the body of the assassin, and so too did the broken personalities of the warrior and the armor fight for dominance.
When the battle came to a head, the three minds had merged into one. The Headsman, Shin, and the Demon of the Battlefield. Their bloodthirst combined, and the Battlefiend was born. The ultimate bringer of death, the embodiment of bloodshed and decay.
With this merge came the full access to the Headsman's power. When this axe first draws blood, it releases an internalized pool of blood through channels within the axehead. Its poorly constructed slab of sharpened iron gives way to a thinner edge inside as the back half peels back and wraps itself around the handle. Encasing it fully in molten iron. The handle is four feet long, the blade is three feet long and extends halfway down the handle and over the top to a length.
The blade itself becomes boiling hot, hot enough to cook flesh on contact. The edge becomes razor sharp as a thin blade of constantly moving blood is suspended before it. As thin as paper, but as capable as a plasma cutter.
The Headsman can fire off five waves of blood in the shape of a massive five foot crescent blade. These cut with the same force as a proper swing of the blade, and can totally bisect a normal human being. When all five are exhausted, the blade must consume the blood of its foe before it can be used again. This means that the Headsman must kill , otherwise its magic will be unusable.
Addendum: (All weapons feeding on blood are not limited to enemy blood. As the Axe has a pool of blood inside to fuel the cutting edge, and Shin too has blood. They can be activated by puncturing his own flesh, or the side of the axe.)
Metal Mask: To hide the grizzly scar upon his face, Shin wears a mask cast from a civil war era cannon ball. The mask has just one eyehole, on the left side. As his right eye does not exist anymore. Its weight is laborous, strapped to his head with four leather bands. The weight serves as a reminder to why he is immortal, and as a reminder of who gave him his scar. Its also a decent shield for his face, protecting him from gunfire and the like. It is not unusually dense iron, it is not impossibly hard, it is simple iron. However, it is an inch thick with a very even surface. Making it a very effective protective cover.
Concrete is the worst material to walk on, he hated it so much. The gritty texture would be fine if it was loose, but it's rigid and inflexible to the weight of a single man. You've got to move your feet entirely off the ground each step, if you drag your feet you wind up scraping your toes. It was only good for roads and wheels, but man was never designed to walk on things like that.
That's why he walked through the fields of wheat, running his clawed fingertips along the tops of the flowering grasses. Flakes of the inflorescences fell each time a new one touched his hand, dropping to the ground near silently as he did so. The only noises touching his ears as he approached the farmhouse was the hushed metallic rattle of his weapons and the soft padding of his feet against the dirt. The slight breeze that pushed the grasses, the cool of the air, the bright shining sun. It was a beautiful day, and if there were any trees within sight he was sure he would have heard birdsong.
The noises calmed the tumult of conflicting voices in his head, each now hushed of their constant screaming. Allowing him a moment of reprieve from his bloodlust, this silence was truly golden. His thoughts were his own and they saddened him. The entirety of his life was bloodshed, day in and out. If he wasn't spilling blood he was preparing to spill it, and even now he was compelled to seek more. 'More blood, more. Please I thirst, give more.'
It spoke to him through the calm of his storm, and his singular eye rolled in his socket. Locking onto the farmhouse and zooming in, the pupil narrowing to a point as it did so. "I am, believe me. I seek it as much as you, and the farmhouse will at least offer pigs blood if we cannot find man blood."
'It must be man blood, pig blood isn't good enough!'
"It will be good enough! Or there shall be no blood at all!" He shouted to himself, the distance between his right side and the barn near negligible now. Long since had he lowered his hands to his side, no longer relaxed and drawing fingers across the tall wheat. "I am in control of you, understand! If I seek blood, it is on my terms! Not yours!" The voice did not respond, they both knew that the voice could not admit that it was not in control. It knew not how to respond, for all it knew was control.
Shin raised his left hand and the former holy blade was pulled into his back, his masked visage hid the moment of disgust and agony from the world. The whole of his armor reverberated, or some motion akin to waves passing through the material. Each of the plates flexed, his horns twisted and bowed for a moment. The tip of the sword exited the palm of his hand, the wet parting of his flesh and the grinding noise of the metal against his black material.
The blade grew from his hand quite swiftly and only those with the sharpest of ears and eyes would have even noticed the process, in his right hand he hadn't noticed. The Headsman too had grown, readying itself for use. It knew that it would be used, why else would he be here. The other weapons thirsted for blood, but The Headsman gets first serving.
It was the only way that their relationship worked.
It was the only way the Battlefiend worked.
He turned towards the barn from the roadside and smiled behind his mask. In a few moments he would feed the beast and sate his blood thirst, he wondered what would be behind the door.
Character you have created: What does a name matter to one who wishes to not speak with you? Alias: I suppose I shall call myself The Grey Nasty, or some likening. Speech Color: Calm: Lavender Furious: Steelblue Character Alignment: Objectively and Subjectively Evil Identity: Unknown, though largely due to no longer existing in his own world. Character Personality: There's something terribly off about a person who'll pat you on the back one moment and then stab you in the throat the next. It's the bizarre nature of how quickly the Grey Nasty can go from calm to rabid makes him unsettling and uncomfortable to be around. It's almost as though he radiates an unpleasant aura, anyone can feel it simply by being around him. Uniform/costume: A ratty old pinstripe suit with remarkable preservation, despite being in the ground long enough for a corpse to rot entirely to skeletal remains. Oh, I neglected to mention that he is a skeleton. Queerly enough, he's carrying around a small silver blue crystal that's just large enough to fit into the palm of his hand. He's about six feet even, would be a bit taller with flesh. His shoulders are pretty broad and his hips are narrow. There are five teeth on the top and bottom of the right half of his mouth missing, this is where he rests a cigar. Origin Info/Details: Once there was a man who died.
But he's still alive?
He got better.
Of course not.
Long ago when America was golden, a man of unknown age was murdered, and his grave was left unmarked. This would have simply been the end of his story, had the universe not shuddered as a result of some magical upheaval of recent years.
Across time and space was yanked the recently destroyed soul of a malignant foreign entity, a mind and spirit so malicious that it fought against its own death. Raging in the aether of nonexistance, preventing itself from passing into the next life.
That is, until the next life metaphorically grabbed hold of this entity and pulled it to our wonderful little speck suspended in a beam of light. From a the afformentioned grave a skeletal hand erupted from the Earth, clutching tightly to a sliver of brilliant silver blue crystal.
The ratty suit adorning the corpse was in remarkable repair, though there were obvious tears and patches to be sewed back on. When the skeleton freed itself from the wet soil of Louisiana it had found its home was impossibly far away. He took stock of his build, height and clothing. The loose fitting clothes would need to be repaired immediately, his body was suitable in size.
Villain Type: Mystic/Supernatural
Power Level: City Level
Powers: Bound Crystal Reconstitution: That sliver of blue grey rock isn't just for decoration, it's an invaluable asset to the existence of our disturbing skeletal friend. When his physical body is destroyed beyond repair, a new skeletal form is generated from the crystal after a short period of time. This grants the Grey Nasty a relatively unassailable form of immortality.
Enhanced Visual and Auditory Perception: As his sense of smell and taste have long since been lost to him, and his sense of touch is dulled down to virtually nothing, his primary senses of sight and sound have become acute to a degree far surpassing any living animal. Night appears as day, sounds can be picked out from up to a mile away, and he's got a natural resistance to flashes of light and loud noises. As there are no organs to be damaged by the exposure or vibration.
Magic Sense: As a powerful magical entity, he can sense magic no matter where he is. Simple as that. The various magical, otherworldly, or other 'powers' that be are almost visible to him. And he can trace them back to their source from any point.
Magic Absorption: Not in the conventional definition, Grey Nasty has the inherent ability to learn magic passively. Learning how the universe works simply by existing in it. This latent power is the natural talent of the nameless thing, as it has allowed it to grasp even the most foreign concepts of magic. In this land of might and heroism, the Grey Nasty feels a haunting presence through his inate magic sense and absorption. Something morbid that calls out to him, a terrible thing that reaches out to him and wishes to imbibe itself upon him. One day he will contact this entity and his growth will be complete.
Artifact Creation: Before we list off the lesser magics of the Grey Nasty, we must speak of his greatest trait. The ability to concentrate magical concepts into artifacts and grant them incredibly powerful magical properties, anything is possible given the proper resources. Some magical effects are obvious, charcoal can be used to infuse a blade with fire. Others are not so much. Material from meteors is required for levitation, as well as related concepts.
Evil Aura: The Grey Nasty is constantly followed by the pervasive and malignant feeling of dread. This feeling goes so far as making normal people soil themselves in terror, simply by entering in the proximity of it. Technology has a habit of malfunctioning to a minor degree, displaying unsavory images and glowering demonic figures. Screeching sounds and the crying of distant beings, menaced by an unseen horror. The aura makes his foes and allies alike uncomfortable and averse to being in his presence. The range of it is about 15 feet away from his person and phylactery.
Bog Magic: The Grey Nasty's primordial mysticism is inherently linked with the natural decay of all things, as well as digestion and similar bodily functions. While the bog may be alive, it is death that truly makes the bog what it is. Each power is related to the bog, and can be combined with equipment for particularly nasty effects. (All effects directed outwards do not directly contact the body of the Grey Nasty, and are instead invoked between the hands.)
Swamp Gas: Horribly putrid, flammable to the point of near explosive reaction, and sticky enough to take five washes in the machine to get out of your clothes. Swamp gas is a reactive and disgusting gas that can be exhaled by the Grey Nasty. Put it in a bottle and light it up, you've got a nice makeshift smoke grenade with the added bonus of exploding. When combined with Moonlight and his Passive Aura, it can cause hallucinatory effects.
Moonlight: The Swamp never feels swampy unless it is in the silver gleam of night, with the full moon hanging high over the water. As a mass scale zone control, the Grey Nasty can make it appear to be midnight. At least within a few hundred feet of himself. The sun is concealed and becomes the full moon, and the blue of the daylight sky makes way to the majesty of stars. This makes it more difficult to see, as well as gives him the advantage of combined mysticism. There's no other effects on its own, this is simply a shroud of darkness for the Grey Nasty.
Bog Water: Stinking and thick, the water of the bog is lined with watergrasses and parasites galore. When the Grey Nasty pours water from his hands he is not simply generating water in an area around him, he is manifesting a swamp where he stands. This includes the sticky silt, the thick mud and the grasses that grab hold of your skin and clothing. Small parasites could cause disease, biting fish and insects cause distress, and the water alone can make movement into a slog. Despite being water, it does not behave as water being poured would, it fills an unseen container that expands to match the fluid. Rather than the fluid matching the size of the container. This means that the bog has a set height of two feet, or sixty centimeters. The width is variable, depending on how much is exuded. When combined with Swamp Gas, the Bog Water becomes a deathtrap. Pick your poison, hide in the filthy water or burn in the explosion.
Sapping Sap: Tree sap is prevalent in the incredibly hydrated trees of the swamp, they ooze it quite readily. His connection to swamp magic allows him to summon tree sap in incredibly voluminous quantities. It sprays out like water when a fire hydrant is burst, but sap is far more dense than water. For it to spray out at that speed, it carries enough force to send a man sprawling a few dozen feet. Unfortunately for those unlucky enough to be struck by this, the plasticity and adhesive nature of the sap makes it so they take the full brunt where they stand. As it tends to adhere people to the ground as it hits them.
Heavy Rain: Prone to heavy rains, the swamp is constantly weather beaten by the rain. As one intrinsically connected with the magic that makes wetlands wet, he is able to manifest storms overhead. Powerful thundering storms, where the wind blows trees to their farthest sway. The rain falls like mighty blows upon the earth, each rain drop as powerful as a man's punch. When combined with Moonlight, Swamp Gas, and his passive aura; this becomes the effect known as the Witching Hour. Nightmares come alive, as the rain pummels you. Your worst fears become visible horrors that menace you from beyond the light. The sky is blackened, save for a beam of light that envelops the victim. It follows them, as though a colossal eye were upon them. The Rain spirals around this and bellows inwards, dashing them from all sides.
Necromancy: The Nameless Undead Overlord here is capable of necromantic magics. The obvious utilization of such is the ability to raise corpses from the dead, and enthrall them to his will. However, he does so by creating a totem or icon representing that individual who is raised from the dead. This animates them for an indefinite period of time and allows him near total control over their thoughts and motions.
Height: 6' Weight: 52 lbs Strength Level: 2x Peak Human Speed/Reaction Timing Level: 2x Human Endurance at MAXIMUM Effort: Virtually Infinite Agility: 2x Human Intelligence: Genius Fighting Skill: Mastered
Resources: As it stands, all he has is his Phylactery and a headstone. Why the headstone? Well, being unarmed is an unsafe practice. Some cigars in his pocket and a Zippo lighter that surprisingly still works. Weaknesses: Wax. If he or his Phylactery are enveloped in wax, he is weakened or depowered entirely. Though only a specific wax entirely depowers him, parafin wax. Its oil based make up and waxy base somehow prevents him from channeling or casting magic. Supporting Characters: None, yet. Do you know how to post pictures on RPG boards?: Ye
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[center]"If you kill a man, you scorn his wife. If you kill his wife, you scorn her child. If you kill her child, you scorn his village. If you kill his village, you scorn the kingdom. If you kill the kingdom you scorn an empire. If you kill an empire, then who is left?"[/center]
<div style="white-space:pre-wrap;"><div class="bb-center"><a rel="nofollow" href="http://www.roleplayerguild.com/topics/79941-leeroys-characters/ooc">The World Under the Architect</a></div><br><br><div class="bb-center"><a rel="nofollow" href="http://www.nodiatis.com/personality.htm"><img src="http://www.nodiatis.com/pub/11.jpg" /></a></div><br><br><div class="bb-center">"If you kill a man, you scorn his wife. If you kill his wife, you scorn her child. If you kill her child, you scorn his village. If you kill his village, you scorn the kingdom. If you kill the kingdom you scorn an empire. If you kill an empire, then who is left?"</div></div>