N'exrothss

Portrait

Description
The bard lifted the fat cigar to his lips and sucked out all the illness left in it, so he could later discard it off the stage. He blew air up to shove the blond hair away from his face and planted his right foot upon the wooden surface to attract everyone's attention, including ~yours~. "The most beautiful story is that of a beginning, the Beginning." He said, with as much emphasis as he could put on that last word. "Ages, aeons ago, when the Gods had gathered together to create us and all other sentient beings, that's when everything began." A moment of silence, if only for a little bit of dramatisation. "These Gods, your Gods, created thousands of different worlds, each beautiful in its own. Some were bigger, some were smaller, some were fierce while others were so peaceful, quiet and pretty --" His eyes brightened up as he glanced somewhere in between the crowd, to point a finger towards one particularly sturdy warrior. "-- just like Jimmy's sister before that one lucky bastard taught her what a dick is!" The bard's own laughter was followed by that of the rest of the bar, including Jimmy himself! "Something was missing, unfortunately for these Gods. These worlds were everything they had so carefully thought of, but there was something lacking. ~That~, brothers, was when we were born. Humans, Orcs, Dwarves, those cute little pixies, wolves and bears. They made and gave every living thing a home, and left them to live and exploit what they had been given." Jump up, he did, and clapped his hands in an attempt to surprise those paying attention, and those who were not. "Horrendous things made their way past the Gods to torment these beautiful creatures, these new creations. They were called Demons, married to Chaos and destruction for the sake of entertainment. But the Gods were smart, and they created our Guardians." His face, the bard's face, was filled with relief and a smile won over the thin line on his lips. "Angels. The most beautiful and brave, meant to protect the creatures and the Gods themselves from these horrid beings. The gates to this Abyss? They did their best to cover them with mountains, wastelands and oceans! But we don't give up, do we?" The bard, and the rest of the crowd, chuckled and used the moment to drink. "We explored, we learned, and we fought for what we soon claimed as ours -- everything. Meanwhile, our Angels protected us from everything wicked, from everything evil, so much so they fought and protected us, that they began to adapt and learn from their adversaries. Not only the methods to slaughter, but even the appearance became similar! There was one Angel in particular: The bravest, toughest, fiercest and most beautiful of Angels, Asmodeus. He had changed to such a point that he even faced the Gods and defied their word and orders." He sat. His tone, his expression, the way in which he occupied that seat and smirked towards his public, it all changed with this part of the story. "They were afraid of him, his powers and what he could do with such a ferocious attitude, so they tried to cast him out. Now, tough and beautiful he might have been, but it was his brain that saved him, for Asmodeus outsmarted the Gods so much so that they never saw it coming: A threat hundreds of times bigger than these Demons were -- and he made you his puppets from the very beginning." Once more, the blond man stood up and began to walk aimlessly on the stage, while the story continued. "Humans had not only found the closed gates to the Abyss, they also opened them. So stubborn and weak-minded to find out what was hidden inside, they ignored each and every single sign their Gods gave them, and the Demons escaped to torture and abuse them once more. The Gods did not comprehend, why did their creations ignore everything they had been taught? Asmodeus gladly explained that such a system would never work, because it was based purely upon their willing compliance, and while these creations looked similar, some individuals were too curious and careless. Asmodeus, ever so helpful, presented his suggestion to the Gods." Whether it was magic or just a trick was unknown, but the bard pulled a scroll from somewhere and opened it so it would unfold and unfold almost endlessly, until it rolled down the stage and bumped into the feet of those at the front row. "He created the concept of Punishment and wrote the Pact Primeval, a contract that the Gods had to sign, which allowed Asmodeus and his crew to live within the abandoned realm of Baator, where they could punish the wicked mortals that dared disobey the Gods' laws and extract the juice out of their souls!" Such dramatisation and tension could be felt through the air, as the bard's tone and poise changed according to his words and story. "... or the Gods could give them the powers of godhood, which was most likely not going to happen." Another burst of laughter from the crowd, although a few of them seemed nervous and unsettled. "And the Gods signed the contract. Asmodeus and his Angels took Baator as their home and began their hard and dutiful work, or so thought the Gods. Time passed, and they saw that less and less souls returned to the Heavens, so they peeked inside Baator. What did they find?" Did he wink in the waitress' way, or was it magic again? Either way, most candles were immediately extinguished, except one or two close to the storyteller. "Baator was their true nightmare, a plane of endless suffering designed to torture these wicked souls for more and more of this magic, as hundreds of new Devils inhabited the plane. Asmodeus was, in fact, deliberately tempting and luring these mortals to their damnation. The Gods, infuriated, called Asmodeus to account for his actions." They saw the bard stand up on his chair, and bring one candle close to his face. A voice so much deeper than his own rumbled through their minds, so deliciously sweet, so tempting and alluring. "Read the fine print." The candle dropped just as they saw two bright red eyes akin to those of the Devils described in the tale. The remaining light was just enough to witness a tail following the bard's figure through the darkness, one that was not there before. ... The Bard Explained ... The particularly charming bloke appeared to be barely over his thirties. He could have been younger, but the numerous scars drawn upon his body aged him just enough. These scars had a distinct uniqueness to them, for it was as if his skin was porcelain, and the scars were fractures through the precious material, simple yet intricate cracks on a tainted sculpture. Some were wide open, while some had barely begun to appear. Fairly tall, the man's build wasn't overly sturdy to be considered a warrior, but more of a scoundrel. Blond hair covered his face when not blown away, often shielding from view his left eye, for good reason: As if this sculpture's eye had been smacked with a hammer, various cracks crossed back and forth over it. The skin was slightly reddened, just like the interior of that eye for, unlike the right twin, it wasn't that bright blue, almost silvery color. It was bright Red, and it seemed to posses its own glow. Three horns were sported on his forehead, and a tail permanently waved and swished behind him, sealing the creature as one of, possibly, Infernal descent. The son of a powerful Prince, he claims to be, set off in search for something he seemed to be lacking, something unknown for now.
Player:	Vile Darkness
Gender (Visually):	Male
Race (Visually):	Human