Demonicor

Demonicor
Sanity is overrated
Age: 28
Race: Human
Status: Alive...?
Affiliation: Black Ravens

Appearance

Demonicor has the look of either a tall human or a short giganto, and is normally garbed in forest gear, with an etched cedar longstaff by his side. He wears a set of leather gloves to hide his scarred hands, and both his bracers and gloves are inlaid with a protective steel plating. He also has a vest of chainmail beneath his dark green tunic, and prefers to keep a hooded forest green cloak clasped at his neck.

Alternate:

He looks quite rugged, if a little under-dressed; slade-black sleeveless clamshell armor, loose fit, black pants, a pair of steel-toed boots, and what appears to be black and red skin-tight gloves running partway up his forearms, it is nearly impossible to tell where the gloves end and his flesh begins. His hair is short cropped and platinum white, spiked back away from his face. A small dagger is strapped to his hip, and a small black duffel bag is slung over his shoulder.

In either form, his eyes retain a unique quality of madness that is difficult to replicate.

Personality

Somewhat of a mad scientist at heart, he has a tendency to experiment with what magic he has at his disposal; this often leads to either great success or hilarious failure, he has however paid the price a few times for such reckless curiosity. He is much more reserved and stable within the company of others, and less likely to use his powers, often seeming carefree and laid back, if a little philosophical.

Backstory

Origins:birth to entrance

Born to a fringe-noble family (son of the stepbrother to the king's second cousin), he was a child without needs. Despite this, he was not a troubled child, simply a bored one. At the age of 12 he created a split persona, pouring everything he desired to be into it, but as is the way with matters of the heart; mind; and soul, something went wrong.

He was in essence a child in a body nearing adulthood, and children learn quickly; not only about what they can do, but what they desire. It soon became as day and night for the two; both literally and figuratively as they developed a cycle. He cared little for political power, and within two years time instead fell into the world of daily pleasure, sharing time with his original personality only when he needed to rest.

By his 15th year, he had committed his first murder, and reveled in it, opening up with it a gate to a new world of possibilities. And as one grew more despondent, the other grew more worried, for while they slept, the other's world was little more than a hazy dream, and one was turning into a nightmare.

Using his family's connections, he barely managed to escape most of the suspicion and lived the semi-normal life of a noble apart from his shadow, but by the age of 18, it was getting harder to hide all the evidence. More people asked more questions every time, so he began to get in touch with contacts his darker-side shied away from.

He befriended an older mage, somewhat seedier and less reputable than most at the court, but the man didn't ask many questions if he was being paid. It was something between a friendship and a business relationship, building trust between each other, until a year later he finally asked about separating a portion of a person's soul.

Things became unsteady fast, and devolved into an argument, but he extracted a promise to help. They didn't see much of each other for awhile, and he buried himself in arms training, shying away from acquaintances at the court.

He awoke one night months later in his bed, covered in blood, with two women, dead on either side of him. A note was left on top of him and he read it with shaking hands "You plan to get rid of me, and you thought I wouldn't find out about it? Here's a riddle for you then smart boy. How are you going to get out of this one? Ta ta!"

He was quickly out of bed and in the bathroom, washing with cold wash-water and not bothering to hide anything. If his plot was known, that meant his friend found something. Dressing and grabbing a dagger, he locked his bedroom on the way out; he would have to hope he had enough time before the guard were informed, but he needed to disappear soon.

He found his friend slumped over a desk in his home, the light of life gone from his eyes, a pen hanging limp in one hand, and a note clenched in the other. He took the note and looked it over, giving a sigh as he closed his eyes and began to gather what he needed, tucking a pair of gold beneath his friend's tongue as an afterthought. "I pay for your passage..." he waited there a moment before rushing out into the streets and making his way out of town.

Finding a quiet secluded spot wasn't too difficult with the onset of dusk; but drawing runes, arranging everything required, and double-checking it with the help of candlelight was a little more trying. He quietly pronounced each of the words three times as he looked them over before placing himself as the focus of the ritual and beginning to read the chant out loud.

It didn't take long before he felt the words reshaping reality, changing him, pulling at the threads of his mind and soul to separate them. He wasn't the only one, an echo of his own voice came splitting through his mind like a shout through white noise "-re y-u doi-g -u-e -i-g to kill - both you idiot!" but he ignored it and continued the chant, the air around him beginning to waver as he repeated the words.

The spell continued to rend half of his mind from the other, tearing bits of knowledge and supplying others in their stead, his memories for the other, meshing them into a whole new experience and view of his life, blurring his lives at the edges when they slept but retaining most of his own as the air crackled around him like contained energy in a kettle.

With one last forced repetition, he released the spell to finish itself, glancing at the small page, now lit by the crackling energy swirling around him, he could see half the chant was written in a weaker hand "Ah, you old bastard...." as the words left his mouth, the sphere of energy around him crackled one last time, and swallowed him whole.

Falling through the nothingness, in-between reality, his body splitting now too as his mind already had. He separated, agonizingly becoming two creatures; himself, and.... himself. Exact copies down to the clothes on their back.

The nothing began to waver as some semblance of reality tried to interpose, and they both landed with a thump in an area not dissimilar from which they left, small imps darting away from their appearance as the men warily dragged themselves to their feet, one drawing a dagger and the other following suit.

"We don't need to do this..." "Oh, but we do!" one lunged for the other, who stabbed back in reaction, they both looked down as they stumbled back, a dagger protruding from their chests, one off-target by an inch "oh.... Shit." the attacker collapsed to the dirt as the other coughed up blood; dragging his knife from his chest he tossed it off to the side and looked around.

He saw the gates of a town and made his way towards it from off the road, collapsing partway and crawling as best as he could, he passed out before the guards reached him.

Abilities

Enduring soul: It is difficult to truly kill the aspect of his soul, as evidenced by it having been partitioned, split, rent, drained, stretched, and repaired a few times since his birth. So long as his soul is housed within his body, it will slowly regenerate.

Hellfire Gloves: His hands and a portion of his arms are permanently blackened and scarred by hellfire, caused when he stupidly reached through a portal to try grabbing an escaping lesser-demon, giving the effected skin a blackish-red leathery hue. Effects (if any beyond visual) are unknown.

Conjuration/Necromancy/Soulmancy

Spells are always developing within the mind of a madman, but here are a few unique examples:

• Primary rift: He can rip a temporary hole in the spacial fabric between two locations. A longer time open makes for an unstable rift, which in turn takes more concentration and energy. If an unstable rift is held for too long, it will begin to warp the surrounding area before it collapses. Many factors contribute to rift instability including: rift size, the amount of time the rift has been open, familiarity with the two locations, and concentration. Its nature makes it very easy to trace by those who know how.

• Proxy Swap: If he has attuned himself with a creature, he can move to them, summon them to himself, or switch places with them entirely. The attunement process requires a minimum of an hour spent with the creature (within 25ft) after it has begun, and fades after a maximum of a week.

• Skeletal legion: Using a touch of his life to power the spell, he can raise an army of skeletons to do his bidding. During casting, a portion of his soul is removed (portion is proportionately different with the size of the creature reanimated), and acts to not only empower the creature, but is also a catalyst for development of its own soul.

• Fleshcraft: Requiring a substantial amount of energy, and a fully dead corpse (no reanimation), he can reshape the materials within a body into a new form: bones, organs, and flesh.

• Soul Extraction: Using a mixture of his energy and the energy of a dying creature, he can rip their souls from their body to store within a soul gem (note: at current skill, the soul is rent into tatters. While this makes it very malleable, there is not much left of the former creature)

Relationships

Ira: He created both Ira and her entire race of skeletal fairies through a necromantic experiment. He considers them all family of a sort.

Helios: The supplier of his robotic body guards and a small set of repair drones he uses as lab assistants. He has grown fond of the mechon and could likely consider him a friend.

Known Alts

AkKURSED, Akumakaze, Altari, Aly, Corzak, Codric, Damesik, Damonicor, Dos, Elessar, Fiszeradin, Garoth, Ira, Kittania, Macintosh, Metroid, Nightwind, Odwofi, Science, Schoenus, Smaug, Synesthesi, Trixie, Runcible, Joshua

World Notes

Genocide

Rabite Forest

October 11, Year 349 Mana Holy Day 3:27 am

The miniature genocide within the fountain had proven to be a most useful tactic. Skeletal figures ripped themselves free from the tiny corpses with a satisfying *crunch* at the word of the cloaked figure standing before them.

The skeletons looked roughly like one would expect from an undead fairy. Small bony figures, roughly 5 inches in height, floating off the ground with disjointed wings, a small membrane of fairy dust arcing across them.

A chorus of oddly cheerful, miniature voices, greeted their master. "Skeletal Troops! Reporting for duty!"

It was disarming to hear such glee from the walking dead.

The dark figure stepped forward and pointed to a few of the strongest within the group. "You five, you will be my generals. What are your names?"

"Titania!", "Tinkerbell!", "Tatl!", "Tael!", "Navi!" "We are ready at your command!"

The figure simply put a hand to his face and shook his head. The gods, it seemed, had a sense of humor. No matter, they would work just fine for what he had planned.