{He who makes a beast of himself, gets rid of the pain of being a man-Samuel Johnson}

Name: Lucivar
Aliases: Bastard, Red, Luci and likely a few others.
Sex: Male
Race: Pit Fiend
Age: Does it matter; he looks younger than he is
Height: 6ft8
Weight: 230lbs (Apparent)
Build: Muscular
Hair: Black, roughly shoulder length if not in his ponytail.
Eyes: Golden swirls
Tattoo's/Scars: Many, refer to description

It?d seem that after spending much time down below in the nine, after the fall and collapse of the lands known as Styss, that large devil has found his way too another plane, of equal, or lesser proportions. It was all the same show though, the debauchery, need, people of some repute, others that should be have died in the womb that carried them. All of these were thoughts that went through the devil?s head.

Like many times before he?d normally be perched against a tree, wall, and column. Golden pools would look down, or across at any whom wandered near, letting a prideful smirk rest upon scarred lips. Once again it?d seem the creature had adapted and changed, having known nothing but war, and having been nothing but good at it. The war hammer, and tower shield were hung up, the staff and magic push aside, instead there was an unnatural grace, and speed that followed the man with each step. Much like the every changing winds, this would likely change at some point, though for now this is how it was.

Old faces, familiar faces, it mattered little too the creature that few remembered, and even more so that he cared little on making new memories. Often seen in company of the past, or new alike, his disposition was a care free shrug, and a swig from a whiskey bottle. What fire that burned in his eyes has long dwindled too embers instead, and it didn?t seem like any breeze, or taunts could ignite that bastard?s thrill for danger, challenge. Where was the fun, when you?ve done that and more, in the lifetime of his existence?


             {Old Bio}

  Those golden orbs would stare upon the square now, his gaze seeming down to earth, though never loosing that determined fire that burned so deeply in them. Though, even though the old is still apparent, so is the new. A deep pain would be in those eyes, a pain that was never there, though what it's from, one can't tell. Always almost holding a neutral stare, though at times, they'd seem to soften as seeing a woman harmed, or break down, seeming to almost take a big brothers look to them.

  His form would still stand as massive as ever, though now, ancient infernal tattoo would grace is form. It'd seem to almost appear tribal, though if one looked quickly; it'd seem like flying creatures in the sky, and soldiers upon the field. It'd run from the back of his shoulder blade, and up over to the front of his chest, taking over his right peck, before curling down his right side, and down over his hip bone. The same design would run down his arm, covering it fully down to his fore arm, before it would break off. A set of what looked like a skeletons fingers would adorn his hand, sliding down those battle worn digits.

Though his over all attitude was friendly in nature to those he cared to speak of, he'd seem to be one that kept one guessing, for there was a long list of events that this figure has lived, and seen. Once he was known as a brother, husband, general, a king, bodyguard, judge. Though as these names would be painted in a lighter nature than most, he also has been known as a traitor, a torturer, king killer, and rumor has it that he even used to run a sweat shop where he forced the workers to make mocking celestial wings and halos. At times he can be eccentric, or cold as the stone he normally leaned against.

Though his temperament has become known as mellow compared to what he once was, he'd still seem to appreciate a woman who was a lady in public, and as freaky as he wanted her behind closed doors, over those who would flaunt their bodies in calling to be man handled.

Many scars would litter his large frame, having been on the receiving end of many blades, and lived as much has he had given such scars himself. Though most would seem to have faded with time, the most recent would be a large patch of flesh on the back of his shoulder that would have seen to have been cut off without care, the skin having healed to cause an indent in the flesh, forming a small pocket.