Fluffu Demon has arrived.The Sword Demon, MedaiAge:ᴇʀʀ.ɪɴᴛᴇɢᴇʀ.ᴏᴠᴇʀꜰʟᴏᴡRace:Demon"Hah… I don’t remember any of your faces."Background:”It is surprising that I need an introduction! I am Medai, one of the most powerful Demons in existence - er, before the incident with the sword, at any rate. Er - fine. I, Medai, am a Demon of origins so sufficiently ancient, and ultimately irrelevant, that… even if I remembered them I don’t think it’d matter. Was I mortal once? Born of mortal souls? Perhaps I was one of those fools that bitch of a goddess brings here to cause mischief? Who the fuck knows - and what’s more, who the fuck cares? Nobody remembers it anyway except the goddess herself, and maybe a few particularly old demons like me. You don’t. I certainly don’t. Ye- yes, I know, I’m sorry, you’re pressed for time and I still have this chunk of a sword in my chest so I think both of us are having a very rough day."
The Sword Demon, Medai, is one of the oldest Demons still in existence. A former Demon Lord in her own right - and an unusually powerful one at that - Medai tried multiple times to take over the world for her own nefarious ends. A recurring main antagonist of the great play the Goddess was intent on performing with the world, she would always be stopped or halted in her actions at the last moment by a chosen hero from a faraway land accumulating the strength and skill necessary to oppose her. It was only with a holy blade imbued with the Goddess’ own power that one succeeded - at great cost. The Goddess’ champion was killed in the act, but he had succeeded, and the Demon Lord Medai was cast down from her lofty perch, her achievements in tatters. But that was not enough for the Goddess, and Medai was punished still further by Her hand. She was not killed, for even the blade through the heart had failed to end her. Rather, her mind was torn from her and she was cast down to the bottom of the heap to claw her way back to power, to claw back the shattered remnants of her identity. And then the next Demon Lord fell - and the process repeated itself. Medai’s mind was stripped bare, flensed of memory and dream and everything but a bare, pathetic shard of her core being.
Even this was not safe, it turned out. With each cycle it is slowly stripped away. Medai has long forgotten her own true name, and adopted the moniker given to her by others. She tried everything - she delved into the mysteries of the arcane and sealed her soul within a phylactery greater than any that had come before. And yet, when the Demon Lord fell, so too was this phylactery destroyed in totality. Her soul returned to her even more fragmented than before. The next time, she sided with the Goddess’ chosen hero, seeking to escape her punishment even if it meant bending the knee to the goddess and her chosen pets.
And yet, she awoke the broken slave of that same hero. Centuries of memory destroyed in an instant once again, for nothing would sate the petty vindictiveness of the Goddess against one of her greatest former enemies.
Medai has devoted herself entirely to the triumph of the demons as a result. She barely if t all remembers her old glory, the empires that fell before her hand and heroes that wept before her. She wants, more than anything, to reclaim some sense of peace. She clings to a tiny, shriveled core of who she once was out of a howling cosmic terror of once more being stripped of her identity, she she might some day be reduced to nothing more than 'the disgraced living weapon'. It is only through the continued efforts of those around her that she holds on to a shard of the past. But it seems she has slowly become accustomed to it. It seems her ultimate fear will never be realized, for such would deprive the Goddess of her sick, vengeful fun. She remains obsessed with her downfall, however, even if her goals in life have degraded to nothing beyond wishing to stave off the resetting of her mind once more.”Oh, right, the sword. Well. The shard of it that remains. You… you already know that, though, don’t you? “The Great Hero of Veradan” they called him. One of those twits that keeps causing havoc here and ruining our plans. An unusually powerful one, at that. Well, I tracked him down and defeated his party - an unexpected challenge, at that! And, well, I was trying to tell him about my generous benefits package and great work-life balance if he’d just turn on that giant prick of a goddess and what does the bastard do? Calls me a ‘communist whore’ and stabs me in the chest with some holy sword the old tart gave him! I didn’t even know what a communist was, at that point. Guess they thought it’d kill me. Holy sword through the heart will kill most things, that’s true. Hah! Guess they didn’t count on me! It’s.. it’s still there, though. Like I’m not dead obviously but it blocks most of my power. Damn inconvenience."
“Recently” - or rather, for the past century - she has resided in a small, remote village. The inhabitants were wary at first, until they realized the danger from bandits and wandering monsters seemed to have disappeared entirely, and children could accompany the strange demon into the forest free of fear of attack and return laden with foods and rare herbs that brought prosperity to the village.“I don’t really know why this has happened to me. I just want it to end.”
Medai’s amnesia is not the product of the intervention of the goddess - at least, not the direct product of it.
The shard of a sword embedded in her chest is that of a holy blade blessed with a shard of the Goddess’ energy, intended to destroy the Demons who were killed by it. Dubbed “The Divine Blade of the Goddess' Holy Wrath Against All Daemonkind” by its creators, the sword was carried by a Chosen Hero of the Goddess, known to the people of the world as the Hero of Veradan from the village he had awoken in. The sword was imbued with Her power, and cannot be wielded by Demonkind - just to touch its handle is agony. Thrust through her heart, the blade almost entirely cut her off from magic - leaving only her raw demonic physical ability and a tiny trickle of energy remaining for her to use. Shockingly, she did not die from the sword. However, unbeknownst to Medai, the other parts of the sword were gathered up and reforged into another - significantly smaller - sword. Unlike the two handed greatsword of the original, the current incarnation is kept in the possession of the Knights of the Valance. Dubbed “Sundered Justice” it is still used by Chosen Heroes to defeat prominent, threatening demons - and with each such use, the shard within Medai resonates with it, clearing her mind and dispersing whatever magical energies she might have accrued since the last use. What would happen were the shard to be removed is presently unknown - and mostly a moot point,. It can scarcely be touched by demonkind, and mortals who could remove it are few and far between, and of that limited pool, the number willing to do so is even smaller.
Sundered Justice, the sword kept by the Valances, is likewise at a fraction of its power without the whole blade. The Valances are keen to retrieve this shard, as such.Skills and Abilities:"You pathetic little craven swine! If I didn't have this sword in my chest, I could level this entire city in a heartbeat! You should be grateful I didn’t do more damage!"
"And that is why you still have the sword in your chest."
Medai is, first and foremost, possibly one of the single greatest combatants to have ever lived - certainly one of if not the greatest to live in the present day. She is a formidable fighter, having slain entire armies single handedly and reduced many a destined hero to a fine red smear upon the stonework. It is a futile, pointless endeavor to try and quantify the full extent of her martial ability and physical prowess. Even with the shard of a sword in her chest cutting her off from the bulk of her power, Medai can move at such speeds it seems the very air itself explodes around her before impact. She can resist an attack the likes of which would reduce the finest enchanted armor to naught but molten slag. In the present day, Medai’s skillset almost entirely revolves around combat. She possesses a highly intelligent mind - or the shards of one, anyway, a sharp tongue, and limited shape-changing abilities, able to hide all but one of her tails and her horns to appear more like a mortal, or take on the form of a small nine tailed fox. She has, however, refrained from investing her time into many specific skills. What point is there in once more becoming an artist whose works bring tears to the eye of the beholder - if all of that will be burned to ash and dust and scattered to the stars once more?“More! More! More! Let the blood flow! More power!”
In her prime, Medai was once one of the most powerful of the Demon Lords - in times long past, the enemy of many a Chosen Hero, and a particularly tenacious one at that, always clawing her way back to prominence after defeat. A gifted mage, unparalleled physical fighter, skilled planner, and natural scientist, many of her creations and concepts have been lost to time as their inventor languishes in the shattered remnants of her own mind. Aside from shape changing - and an apparent ability to mildly entrance those who look into her eyes, Medai shows an inexplicable lack of ability to use magic. As though something is choking her off and blocking its use, like a closed valve.
More recently she has taken to cooking and baking, reasoning that if there is little she can do against her fate, she may as well eat properly.Quips:“I’ve forgotten more than you will ever know.”
The Sword Demon Medai is completely unlike what most who hear of her expect. Instead of a towering agent of destruction or otherworldly being - she appears almost mortal. She is, however, a far more pitiful creature than would be expected. Many describe her as simply “crazy”, but that fails to truly account for her. Medai lives in constant terror every day of losing her identity and sense of self all over again. Brought low long ago by a destined hero, chosen by the goddess against whom she still fights, Medai has been cursed with a fate worse than death. So what can one do in such a scenario?“C’mere. Give me a hug. I won’t remember you forever, and that hurts more than you’ll ever know - but it’s worth it to have it when we can.”
Apparently, though, she’s still the bad guy.
Medai’s sword, Vendethyr, is posessed by the spirit of one of her former lovers by the same name. A mortal man possessed of prodigious magical skill, he grew close to The Sword Demon long before her first memory loss, assisting her in one of her many bids to take control of the world. In his old age he bound his soul to an adamantium blade rather than pass on, wishing to remain with her in some capacity. Ever since Medai’s injury against the Hero of Veradan, he has worked tirelessly to maintain some shard of the person he once loved, railing against the divine memory loss that frequently afflicts her. It is through him that Medai remembers the name Medai, through him that she ‘remembers’ countless adventures through the world - even before the time of the sword, through him that she may hold on to more than a hollow core of hereslf flensed bare of life. He has played a small role in the increasingly kindhearted, benevolent turn she has been making in life, a turn he remarks on with an invisible smile. He occasionally likes to tease her with stories of other lovers that came after him, though shows no jealously. Additionally, his immense exasperation with her complete ignorance of magical affairs beyond that which comes to her instinctually is a frequent source of amusement for bystanders.
She has taken to using acquaintances, passers-by, and others as taste-testers for her current cooking experiments.
Medai has a fear of dogs. Whether this is tied to her slight fox-like nature, or a relic of some past memory is uncertain. When around dogs - especially hunting dogs - she is visibly on edge and nervous, even if they pose little actual threat to her.“E-eheh, nice dog. Yes. Pl-please take him away from me. Please”
For some reason she remembers the moments before and after being stabbed with perfect clarity.“You can’t spell laughter without slaughter! Er, no, wait, I got that one mixed up.”
This is the music I wrote her sheet to, I guess, Lappland good for soul
I say you should replace her current art (or one of them) with the commissioned one.
Other than that, looks good to me.
