Infernals?

Blackadder

Blackadder

Inquisitor Ordo Hereticus
Well, I'm feeling interested in running an Exalted game, tentatively. My thought is an Infernals game, I love the darker, tainted Exalts. Here's the deal for any interested folks: I'm going to make this a perfect Coven/Circle game. Also, I intend to run it one of two points during Return of the Scarlet Empress.


Option 1- We start at the beginning with somewhat experienced Infernal Exalts, who accompany the Scarlet Empress to the Blessed Isle. This focuses on the efforts to subvert this bastion of Creation, mixing politics, fighting and intrigue.


Option 2- Right after the climatic battle with the forces of Creation, the Ebon Dragon won. But things aren't over yet, and it's quite clear that the Celestial Exalted and their allies aren't out for the count. And of course, the other Yozis want to do horrible things to your horrible traitorous master. More combat here for certain.


Thoughts anyone?
 
Infernals are lots of fun, but I am a silly head who has not yet gotten around to reading about the return. So, to me the first option seems more interesting, but that may just be lack of infos. I'll definitely watch where this goes, and get mah homework done if recommended. :)
 
Oh, wow...I've been wanting to try playing Infernals since I got into Exalted, but I've never really played a villainous type before. I'm really interested in trying, though. I haven't read up on the Return, either, but I'll gladly do so.


I think I'd probably try for a Fiend, but maybe a Defiler would work, too...I'll see where inspiration comes.


Oh, and if it helps, I'd probably vote for the first scenario, too.
 
I think I might be interested as well. Probably a Malefactor, would be interested in the first option too.
 
Definite interest. I've got an old Fiend concept from a defunct RL game that would work well in the first option. I'm sure I could come up with something fun for the second, but the first sounds more appealing to me.
 
Never played an infernal before, I think it would be interesting.


I'd probably go for the 1st scenario as well
 
I'd love to be able to finally play an Infernal as well, admittedly I'd put my vote with Option 1 as preferred storyline to move along. I loves me some intrigue.
 
I do enjoy Infernals (which is why I'm currently running a game of them on this very board) so I'd love to play.


I'm a big fan of Malefactors, but really all the castes are pretty neat. On a more useful note, I'd suggest Option 1. Infernals really shine in their various approaches to social situations. Almost every Yozi has an interesting social tree, so nobody gets 'left out'.


I'll have some concepts up shortly.


So, question for you. What level of 'evil' are we going for here from the PC's? Infernals can cover the gamut from 'guy that didn't realize what he was getting into' all the way up to 'bond villain'. What kind of characters are you looking for?
 
Color me intrigued. I've got a slayer who's been banging around inside of my head for a while, and I'd kind of like to let her out before she does any permanent damage.


Also voting Option 1. I have to admit the idea of "we conquered the world, offscreen" doesn't really appeal.
 
Oh god yes! I'd definitely be up for this. Will have character concept up soonish. I'd also be more interested in Option 1.
 
Ok- This is more than I expected. :D


So, unanimously Option 1. You'll be focused on the Blessed (Cursed, once you're through with it) Isle, and you'll get an sizable XP bonus at character creation to represent your experience. I'm a thinking that as the honor guard of the Queen of Hell, you serve as the primary Infernal squad in the Isle, so a lot rides on your work.


Storyline progression will roughly follow the in-ROTSE event path, and you'll get a balance of on and off screen involvement in the big happenings. I promise you'll got some kind of chance to whack Sidereals. :D


Still working on the house rules and other instructions... and I think I'd like to see concepts rather than sheets as my basis for the unfortunate division between players and respectfully-declined. :cry:


Also: as Infernals can run the gamut, you are free to decide where your char stands. Just don't be too excessive in game with the darker acts, lest we violate forum rules.
 
Very interesting. I had in mind a Slayer (former gladiator - Infernal Monster stylist or Hellish overlord concentrated on Malfean charms etc), i had created some time ago whom i might be interested in playing.
 
Major Events


The following has occurred during the past Realm Year:


- Alchemicals: The Seal of the Eight Divinities was breached at last, and Creation has encountered the arrival of the Autochthonians and the Alchemical Exalted. Initially invading and snatching up prisoners and resources in the South and East, the various Tripartite Assemblies have arranged for the start of diplomatic relations with Lookshy and Paragon, among other satrapies and tributaries and independents. The Realm soon in the grips of civil war, is avoided by the Autochthonians, but they send ambassadors after Tepet Ejava's victory at Sdoia City to recognize the victor and future Empress.


- Sea Wars: Recently, for reasons unknown, the Lintha have begun a full scale war on the deep with Skullstone. Both sides are fighting hard still, but stalemated, thanks to Moray Darktide's prowess at blunting the first overwhelming pirate wave.


- Civil War: It happened. Not long after peace with the Autochthonians, Regent Fokuf disappeared under everyone's noses, but all signs point to unnatural play. Regardless, the point became moot once Mnenmon took the initiative and seized the Imperial City. With the backing of her House, House Cathak and House V'Neef, she declared herself Empress. Tepet Ejava raised her forces in response and civil war raged across the Realm. Ejava was backed by many, and the majority of the remaining Great Houses came to her aid. After strife and blood, Ejava personally destroyed the primary fleet and legions of Mnenmon at Sdoia City, and controls most of the Blessed Isle. The sorceress holds onto Imperial City and has unleashed Abyssals of the Mask of Winters, but her chances are too thin to succeed.
 
Yeah. I don't want you guys to go all the way and get rejected. Wouldn't want to waste too much of your time.
 
Preliminary background upon which to expand.

Clarion of Order was always a driven individual. It was the stories that did it: living in lookshy a child heard all the stories of honor and glory on the battlefield. The Gunzosha held a special place in her heart: warrior scientists, driven by duty beyond the limits of mortal men at great personal sacrifice. By the age of seven, she had planned her future life, and set about achieving it. Her father was a respected thaumaturge, and she decided that she would follow in his footsteps, but that lectures and research were insufficient goals to aspire to. The legions always needed technicians to maintain the standards which held the scavenger lands.


For a child to enlighten her own essence was not easy, but with dedication and access to her father's library and occasional tutelage, she mastered her chakras before coming of age. With such powers to commend her, she enrolled in Valkhawsen and studied to become a Sorcerer Technician. Alchemy held an especial interest for her, and she threw herself into it a little too enthusiastically, acquiring an impressive collection of burn scars. Finally however, she attained her degree and entered the Seventh Legion as an officer.


Unfortunately, she fell short of the standards required by the Gunzosha corps. That was the first major failure of her life: a slip on the obstacle course broke her leg, and she was removed from the running. With a splint and a heavy heart, she was directed into another field. The battlecarrier Might of Brotherhood was in need of a new junior engineer. The fact that she could use essence was another powerful point in her favor: the magitech of lookshy needed a constant stream of motes to operate, and the Dragonblooded commander had more useful things to do in many situations.


Serving as part of the crew maintaining the Might, she had ample opportunity to see combat. Sometimes as a gunner, sometimes repelling would be saboteurs and boarders, she honed her combat skills as well as the engineering abilities she had learned at the academy. She fought in 2 wars and a half dozen "peacekeeping operations" throughout the scavenger lands, and grew to love her work and her comrades.


During periods of peace, dancing and music were frequent outlets, and Clarion's position allowed her to indulge her taste for literature. She attended the occasional officer's ball, taking advantage of the opportunity to combine her appreciation of music with the opportunity to mingle with higher officers. Always obedient and respectful of authority, she gained a reputation for reliability. Due to her continuing high marks and careful social work, she was promoted to senior engineer, the highest position capable of being held by a mortal, at the age of 35. Without any desire for children, she finally felt content. Life had not gone exactly to plans, but she had reached a point where she was satisfied to stop pushing upwards.


Then came Thorns. As a matter of necessity, and out of fear of the dead, southern patrols were stepped up. While it was down for routine maintenance, a deathknight came across the Might of Brotherhood and decided to test himself, apparently for nothing other than the joy of the slaughter. Clarion was halfway into a crawlspace when she heard the screaming, cut fearfully short, she seized up her weapon and went for a look. A momentary glance told her all she needed to know. Dead strewn across the ground outside, the deathknight laughing as a child with a toy. She knew she had no chance against the creature. She knew also she could distract him long enough for the rest of the crew to escape, by use of the main gun might buy some of the others time to escape. She felt the flickers of a fire in her soul, a determination to save the others.


She squashed it. Returning to her crawlspace, she sealed it behind her and hid for hours. When she emerged, nothing was left.


Understanding that she would be scapegoated for the disaster if she returned, she fled the field and hoped she would be listed as merely dead: one of the many body parts cut to beyond recognition. It was when she made camp that the demon caught up with her. The erymanthoi kept its offer fairly simple: knowledge, power, and a new military command. She thought for quite some time, but finally accepted.


In the cocoon, she dreamt fitfully. Flashes of sublime designs and patterns beyond anything she could have visualized: living engineering and flows of essence circuitry imprinted on the world. Images of a caravan, bearing her away, into a desert. Martial arts and dance and rage and fear, and a cold voice explaining how it was all the natural order. When she awoke, she found herself in a catacomb where a secret cult of the Pyrian Flame had gathered. They explained her new role, as best as they understood it, and offered her training and a chance to test her powers. When at last she was ready, they opened a gate to cecelyne and she began her pilgrimage to malfeas.


Concept: Quiet bodyguard and hellstrider engineer: Clarion of Order, unlike many slayer castes, is quiet, reserved, and respectful. While fond of violence, she approaches it as something to be studied and controlled; applied to goals rather than an end unto itself. She loves the machinery of war above all else: her free time is often spent pouring over engineering logs or examining the minutiae of her machinery.
 
Because it popped into my head as a story, here you go:

Many years ago, on one quiet Threshold day, there was born a boy named Flitting Wren. His life was both as normal and as peaceful as one could be in the Age of Sorrows and he was grateful. His parents cared for him and taught him right from wrong and, as any dutiful son should, he loved them in return and always finished his chores without complaint.


But all was not well in the lands in which they lived. You see, they were ruled over by a greedy and oppressive satrap who taxed their poor household for more than they could afford. Being good citizens of the Realm, the family paid their taxes and made ends meet through loans given by the same cruel official. Sadly, in time they fell too far behind and the satrap sent his men to take the boy as payment. When his parents fought to defend their child, they were killed and the crying boy taken by force to the satrap's manor.


It was here that the boy's fortunes took a turn for the better. Just as the satrap was preparing to sell him to a cruel Guildsman, the door splintered inward and shattered to reveal a hero wreathed in shining cherry blossoms. It was a Magistrate! The hero demanded that the satrap return with her to the Imperial City to answer for his crimes, but the spiteful ruler instead chose to answer with a flame-shooting relic. The barking fire clashed against the the hero's perfect harmonies in a stunning display until a bad turn gave the satrap the upper hand. Unwilling to see his savior fall, the boy -- forgotten in the fray -- took up a decorative blade and drove it through the tyrant's back.


With nowhere to go, the boy begged his rescuer to take him with her and, moved by his plight, she agreed on the condition that he train to assist her in her works. Without a second thought, he took up the weapon that had so recently menaced the hero and vowed that it would be both his tool to fight at the magistrate's side and constant reminder of why there was a need to fight.


In time, the boy became a man and, true to his word, he battled oppression at the magistrate's side. With every wrong righted, with every life saved, camaraderie deepened and eventually turned to love. But the weeding that was planned would never come to be. While reporting back to the City as all magistrates must do, the man's love was branded a traitor to the Realm by her enemies and sentenced to death.


Without a moment's hesitation, the man set out to clear her name, but arrived too late. Taken by grief, the man searched for the source of the deadly slander and eventually tracked it to a woman from the Lesser Chamber. When confronted, she made no denials, but only said that the man could change nothing and if he tried, he would only die and with his passing, his love's memory would fade forever.


The man fled. In his sorrow and shame a voice whispered to him in the shadows. It assured him that this was not how the world was meant to be and explained that the true fault lay in the weaknesses of those he had fought to protect. After all, did any of them raise a voice in her defense? Did any of them join him in his search for truth? No, in their selfish corruption they took the aid of his hero and then stood by while she died. But then the voice promised him hope. He could be given power enough to expose them all for the vile fiends they were and even power to take control of the institution that condemned his love and ensure nothing like it ever happened again. All he had to do was promise to help fix the world and return it to the way it was meant to be.


When he agreed, the man died and was reborn in the darkness. He traveled for days across an endless desert and in a real outside Creation, learned at the feet of his new master. When he was ready he returned to the world and for a time roamed his magistrate's old protectorate. Everywhere he went, bandits fell and corruption ceased and the people were left freer than when he came. With all the good he does, nobody seems to notice that the people use their new freedoms in ever more base and unnatural ways and nobody finds it odd either that he leaves every town with some kind of standing authority written into law. And that is just the way Flitting Wren wants it.


Let me know if there are any pertinent details missing or anything else you want and I'll edit it in.
 
http://forums.spacebattles.com/showthre ... ost5504459

Alectai said:
Because whoever wrote it was genuinely retarded. He never spoke with the other people writing the book at any point, and was told 'You're making the champions of Exalted Hell! Go write their background information!' So he basically wrote the whole thing as being an entire splat of horrible atrocities upon atrocities and evil for the sake of being cartoonishly evil, and the Infernals having zero free-will, and are horribly raped and tortured when brought to Malfeas.
And that for some reason, despite all this abuse, they all universally follow the party line.
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hyzmarca said:
I've just read the first chapter, and it doesn't actually say that at all.
To start with, it is explicitly stated that Infernals do keep their free will completely. That's a rather important part of the design, as it prevents rules lawyering by the gods.


Second, training section specifies some sort of "communion" with the patron Yozi's souls, but it doesn't actually say what that means or give any details to suggest one way or another. Sure, it could be horrible rape and torture, but it is just as likely drinking beers and watching the superbowl with Lieger and the boys.


After that, it gets rather pedestrian and corporate, but provides some really good incentives for staying loyal.


First, you get some cool swag, swag is always good. Your patron gives you weapons, and armor, and all that good stuff. They don't skimp either, you give top of the line state of the art equipment.


Then all the other GSPs come in and meet you. They tell you how awesome you are and offer real (and fake, in some cases - office politics can be a bitch for the newbie) camaraderie.


Then your patron throws a parade in your honor and every demon in the city comes out to cheer and tell you how awesome you are. There are marching bands and those miniature flags, and its all for you. The entire city thinks that you're the greatest thing since sliced bread and they don't hesitate to tell you.


Then they had you the keys to your brand new corporate townhouse. It's completely rent free, is really more like a mansion than a townhouse, and comes with a maid service and butler. A massive home on prime Malfean real estate is not something to sneeze at, especially when it comes fully furnished.


And that's not all. They also give you an expense account. It's not a regular expense account, either. It is literally the mother of all expense accounts. You don't have to justify any charges, they expect you to use it for personal tihings. More importantly, it has no cap. It isn't infinite, but only because the around of wealth in the universe has limits. If you want something they'll get it for you. If it exists in Malfeas you'll get it immediately. If it doesn't exist in Malfeas they'll send someone to get it for you or die trying, and if he dies they'll send someone better. And it is accepted by every secret Yozi cult in creation. It's better than American Express.


It also doesn't say that they're Soulfucker Killshitters. Words like "atrociities" and "villainy" are thrown around and there is some mandatory human sacrifice (of people who don't worship the Yozi - part of the annual holiday meeting) the chapter does demonstrate that most Infernals do maintain basic human decency and compassion (some are assholes, though) just not generally directed outside their rather limited peer group.


Lillun got the short end of the stick in the torture department (not intentional, just a side-effect of the process used to keep the exaltation shards under control, and the sex-orgies are all her idea), and the book goes out of its way to show that most GSPs are extremely uncomfortable with what was done to her for their benefit. A few think its funny, but those assholes are implied to be a minority (and were probably sociopathic assholes before exaltation). Those who can stand to be around her for any period of time usually go out of their way to be kind to her. Most can't stand to be around her for any length of time because they still have enough basic human compassion to be painfully disturbed by the magnitude and quality of her suffering.


They're not cartoonishly evil, its just that they identify with their social group (GSPs, yozi, and demons) more than than they identify with those outside of their social group (other Exalts, humans, etc). It's easier to do sweeping acts of violence without thinking about the consequences when you're doing them to outsiders.


The problem with this is that it only works if you're playing running the game from the Yozi perspective, where the gods are evil, Exalts and humans who refuse to bow before their true masters are the enemy, and freeing the Yozi is a good thing. That's not something that works in mixed groups. It's either all Infernals or none at all.


Personally, I'd think that people would complain that the chapter makes the GSPs too corporate and mundane. It sounds more like becoming a Wal-Mart executive than an eilte warrior of hell.
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*whistles innocently*
 
I don't know if i'll finally have the time to apply for this game (cosidering being currently ill and having other games running) but here goes the character background story anyway.


Nidvar, the Brass Titan

Name[/b] Nidvar the "Brass Titan", "The Fist that Sunders the World", " The Champion of Malfeas".


Exalt Type and Caste Infernal, Slayer


Anima A huge behemoth of aeons past, clad in brass armour plates, roaring defiant at the sky.


Motivation Prove himself as the mightiest warrior ever to set foot upon Creation.


Urge (Cecelynian - The Urge to Command): Gain control over the Mercenary Companies of Nexus and transform them into an unstoppable force of destruction.


Unwoven Coadjutor Erymanthus (Blood-Ape)


Concept - Background


Nidvar, the Brass Titan (due to his previous expertise in gladiatorial combat and the colour of brass associated both with his patron, Malfeas, whose cause he champions and with his attitude, emulating his patron Yozi in trying to become a true infernal overlord, respected or even better feared in Hell and across Creation as a terrifying and absolutely exalt). He's utilizing mainly Malfeas charms, eschewing most of the rest as weak or unfitting to the glory of a chosen of the Demon-King.


He is coming from humble origins, enslaved for years, trained as a gladiator and fought for many years for his masters' pleasure. In greater detail, his story was written down by an appointed demon-savant, after his ascendance in the ranks of the Green Sun Princes. According to that recollection of events, Nidvar was born to a village near the South and due to various problems that occured was forced to slavery alongside most of his people.


After some time of manual labour (both in sea, aboard ships, and land) he was sold-to set an old debt of his captor merchant-to another who took an interest in his healthy physique. Impressed with his muscular power and stamina (acquired by endless days of hard work) he decided he could make a profit of him. So it was that was introduced to the world of pit-fighting and gladiatorial combat. To fight almost to death, to give it all without assurance for tomorrow other than the safety of a good performance which could bring money to his owners and grant him more days of life and gruesome violence.


The Brass Titan (who didn't bear that name at the time) managed to do well, despite the hardships he was forced into. Gradually he became an acknowledged gladiator and his name was regarded with respect by his peers and cheering by the crowd. But this was not to last. He was growing weary of this life and was secretly afraid that his days would end by some younger fighter in the bloodstained sand of an arena and what's more he wasn't fond of dying without breathing the invigorating air of freedom once more.


The chance presented itself in the days before a grand tournament. It seemed that some of the slaves had displeased their masters by the time and also that some important dignitaries from the Realm would be also attending. Rumour had it that among their ranks was a renowned Dragon blooded martial artist, against whom -most said- even the greatest gladiators didn't stand a chance. And this particular one, maybe out of sadistic tendencies maybe out of excessive pride, had decided to make a show of force and teach "the impudent people of the Threshold" a lesson in martial discipline and pain.


The festival that was organised in their honour was grand and the games in the arena were the crown jewel to it.


Various martial artists, wealthy merchants, nobles and government officials were present along with hundrends of spectators.


After a few exhibition performances from various stlylists that have traveled there for the tournament, and a few more or less friendly sparring matches to warm up the crowd, the real and awaited spectacle-or shall we say butchery-began. The gates of the arena opened and a group of 5 gladiators stepped out, hesitantly, awaiting to see what would come to face them.


Then from the honoured guests' seats, a figure, moving faster than the eye, descended on the arena floor.


A young man - as he was looking - stepped forth and with graceful and fluid motions stood ready. His face was impassive, save for a small smirk, indicating what was about to follow.


The-so called-fight began and Nidvar could do nothing more but watch, like a lion behind the iron bars of the arena's gates.


Most of the gladiators' blows failed to even touch the arrogant dragon blooded. He seemed to flow through their attacks and defences and even the few hits that actually stroke him, seemed to do nothing more than a pebble would do by falling to the surface of a lake. Then one by one, he began to grapple and strangle them, break their bones and sent them sprawling to the ground with agonizing screams.


At these moments, while his comrades were massacred and while he could have stepped forward and try to stop it, he instead trembled in fear. Staring into the eyes of the cruel dynast, he saw his demise and a cruelty that surpassed his understanding. Nidvar was literally petrified for a few moments, as the sardonic smile lingered on the dynast's face and when he came back to his senses, he was driven by an inexplicable terror to escape, managing to do so, by taking advantage by the general fuss and after a harrowing hunt. As days passed, he wandered almost aimlessly, until Malfeas sent him his proposal in such a manner that he could not deny it.


It was a dark night, at the otskirts of a forest and as the pale light of moon almost waned behind the veil of clouds, Nidvar stopped to rest for a while before continuing further on. He had heard, years ago, about a city of the East, called Nexus, where despite its inherent dangers, once could find shelter from the Dynastic oppression and attempt to peacefully live the rest of his life in the rural suburbs of this city. Thinking of all that he collapsed from exhaustion, struggling to warm himself without a fire, since one might give away his position to possible hunters sent by his owner. As he sat there, below a tree, trembling from cold and fatigue and realizing he is not the strong man he once used to be, he bursted into tears for his failure to intervene and protect his comrades in the arena. Sure enough they might have killed him if they fought together in next tournaments but until then, their esprit de corps had to remain intact. If only he could stand up against that wretched dynast...if only he wasn't such a coward...


"If only you'd stop pitying yourself..." a voice came from the shadows, trailing among the trees of the forest.


"Who... who's there?" answered Nidvar, startled at the sound of another voice and trying in vain to discern a figure amidst the dark trees.


"One who knows that this incident was not your fault. You had no strength, no power, no way to stand up against this dragonblooded".


"Even so...Nidvar said cautiously...even if you are correct, they are still dead and i failed them. Nothing i can do will rectify that".


"Don't be so sure old gladiator. Yes, i know you. Or to state it better, my Master knows of you and not only knows but also respects you. He believes it was an unfortunate event due to your diminished power. And he is willing to amend that".


"Your Master? and who might that be? Another slave-trading noble who mocks veteran gladiators past their prime, in hope to soothe their hurt egos? I have no need for consolation".


"Who ever said anything about consolation. I speak of power, of the spirit of the raging warrior rekindled within your soul. That is my Master's offer. Power, authority, strength, beyond all imagination. Respected by your peers, feared by your enemies, with the power to set wrongs right. Wrongs not only against you but against Master as well. That is the deal, the pact i offer as his messenger, as your unbound fury manifest. Serve my Master, the King of the Titans that made the World. The King of those who were cast down by the treacherous Gods and their tyrranical exalted servants. Serve him faithfully and receive power and glory to remake Creation beyond the dreams and expectations of mortal and exalted alike.


What say you?"


The chance to avenge all the wrongs he had witnessed in his life was simply overwhelming and the last event hadn't left much resistance in Nidvar. For the first time in his life he felt important and he would not let that chance slip. He accepted, saw almost horrified the huge blood ape stepping out of the foliage and coming to devour him. He smelled the blood in his breath, knew instictivelly that the beast was a true warrior and let it proceed. Nidvar survived the travel through Cecelyne after his transformation and even put down a scouting party of the Wyld Hunt prior to leaving for the Demon city.


Fate would have it that his thirst for revenge was somewhat satisfied by his new master, since that Wyld Hunt scouts were accompanying the same individual who had butchered his deceased comrades. His patron promise was coming true and if he had to crush utterly any and all resistance to see the Primordials as rulers of Creation again, like in the times of hallowed antiquity, then, it seemed to Nidvar at that moment, he would do so unhesitatingly. The footsoldiers of the Realm were no much for Nidvar, who made short work of them with his newfound strength and capabilities. Then came the time of their "honoured guest", of that spoilt dragonblooded who had toppled in one day most of Nidvar's life and killed all those who were - in a sense - close to him. Nidvar, looked at him, this time defiantly, with no fear in his heart, no trembling in his hands. Only his eyes glinted with barely contained rage, ready to erupt.


"You probably don't remember me, arrogant dynast and so called chosen of the dragons. But i remember you. I remember you crushing my friends, strangling them, ending their lives mercilessly, as a child breaks his toys out of boredom. You ended many good lives that day. I should probably thank you, since my life changed from that day and now i'm a new man. Your actions contributed in making me what i now am and now you shall witness my true power. Do not hold back dynast. Give me all you've got and let's see who remains standing at the end".


The dragonblooded, still shocked from the destruction Nidvar had caused among his retinue, dismounted and took a stance of combat readiness, slipping into his martial arts form, resembling the fluid grace of water and the crushing strength of the waterfall. Nidvar, simply howled with fury, his eyes almost bled with rage and his posture resembled that of a terrible monster unleashed upon his prey. Watching Nidvar's combat stance was disturbing to say the least, but the dynast's arrogance - fuelled by his swelled ego and a lifetime of indoctrination that he's among the greatest of Creation's warriors - prevented him from taking Nidvar seriously until it was far too late. Nidvar charged with blinding speed and attacked with unrivaled ferocity. His punch connected with the dynast's jaw in a sickening crunch and he was knocked off his feet and sent sprawling to the ground. Nidvar pressed on, before his foe had time to recover and soon he had reduced him to a bloody pulp. He spitted on his remains and after some rest he continued his trip towards the Demon city.


Upon his arrival, he knocked defiantly at the brass doors of the hellish realm, demanding to see his patron and even the erymanthoi recognised an unbound fury welling up in him, for they brought him to his patron immediatelly. The landscape left him in awe and as time passed he grew more accustomed to it. At least now he had his luxurious estate, his personal neomah consort and a host of other concubines, training grounds and as many sparring companions as he wanted, plus a wealth of lore regarding the ways of war and personal combat from untold aeons ago till the present age. Soon, his dedication and martial skills made him a fearsome figure in Malfeas and a true prince of hell, worthy of his patron's recognition. His muscular, armoured and defiant figure became a byword for endurance and combat excellence and he regularly was sent to accompany and gradually demon troops in the local conflicts.


In addition to that Nidvar discovered a great mentor in the ways of martial arts and warfare, while bolstering his strength and learning his new nature. Suratankal. The infamous «Crucible of Brass and Iron» became Nidvar’s master in the ways of martial arts and Nidvar aspires to become his foremost student, expanding his already honed skills of gladiatorial combat, with the expert wisdom and devastating brutality of Suratankal’s techniques. There’s also another fact that shows Nidvar’s dedication to his master and to the Infernal Monster style he’s been teaching him in an unsurpassed level. Despite being raised as a slave and having vowed never again to let anyone brand his flesh with a sign of their own, Nidvar not only let Suratankal brand him with the Eye of 49 Spines, but he bears it since, proudly as a mark of martial honour and fealty to his sifu.


Nidvar was different now. He had a home, recognition from his peers and patron, a purpose and the power and means to achieve it. The time would come and those who treated him as a dog or worse would kneel before him or perish. Creation would see his master ascend as Overlord and returned All-King and him as one of his greatest champions. All wrongs would be set right and all arrogant scum that thought of themselves as nobles or else would know their true place.


Thus he trained and mastered his newfound strength, his newfound abilities all the while becoming better, exploring more, learning to be a figure of immense might, of awe-inspiring presence, of unwielding endurance and of terrible devastation.


Character Images


Nidvar, the way i imagine him, might look very close to any of these pictures, depending on his status:


1) During the time he was a celebrated and famous gladiator. Nidvar still retains this appearance, when not transformed (as per By rage recast and Devi-Tyrant Avatar Shintai charms).


gladiator-glory.jpg



2) As Terrible Overlord, under the effects of Devil-Tyrant Avatar Shintai. The Brass Titan, the Champion of Malfeas, the Spear of Hell in all his glory and might.


dark-warrior.jpg
 
Since you mentioned you wanted a perfect circle game, I figured that rather than declaring for one particular caste, I'd draw up a few Infernals of different castes that I thought were interesting. What can I say, I like them all. >.>


I have a defiler I'm still working on, but here's what I have so far. If you feel something needs to be changed, I'm happy to incorporate feedback.

The Hollow Man


Fiend


Mardent Fane


Concept:


Fae-ravaged Fiend. Impostor, honey-tongued liar, and mocker of the concept of virtue when it is not looking. Constantly two-faced, vindictive, and petty. Hates the fae and the wyld, and wants to inflict misery on the world. The perfect servant for the Dragon.


Story:


Mardent Fane was a hard-working farmer. Your average young man, making an honest living in the East. He lived in a small farming community outside of Greyfalls, had lived there all his life, and probably would live there until he died. It wasn’t exciting, but he enjoyed the simple existence. Then the fae came. It came in the guise of a minstrel, playing music, singing songs, and telling stories. The townspeople welcomed it, because they did not realize what it was.


The next morning, when two peasants were discovered dead, Mardent realized what the creature was. He had heard of such things in the tales his mother had told him. Evil beings that ate a man’s heart and soul. So Mardent took up his iron pitchfork, and went to confront the evil beastie. The bard spoke honeyed words and platitudes. It told lies; said it was not responsible for the deaths of the young men. Mardent faltered in his conviction in that moment, and it was all the fae needed. It fed upon the young peasant, though not enough to kill him. Before the creature was finished, more townfolk burst in, interrupting it’s meal, and scared it off. Mardent crawled away, into an alleyway, more dead than alive, his very soul feeling empty and hollowed out. That’s when the strange creature covered in needles found him. It promised him revenge and promised to make him whole again. It said Mardent would never be empty again, for his spite would fill him.


And the Firmin kept its word. Mardent Fane, now a blanched and weakened young man, can take on any appearance he likes. His spite fills his heart, and he can laugh in the face of his foes and they do not hear it. One day he will find that Fae again, and he will show it what it truly means to be Empty.





The Deposed King


Malefactor


Jarran Mar


Concept:


An old king, with his youth regained and his idealism gone, sees the world through a cynical and arbitrary viewpoint. He has embraced the arbitrary and ‘might makes right’ attitude of Cecelyne, acknowledging that Machiavellian and cutthroat politics are the ‘real way the world works’.


Story:


Jarran Mar built a kingdom out of the ashes of war. His father was a great conqueror, at least as well as mortals can be in the Hundred Kingdoms, with Lookshy looking over everyone’s shoulder. His father may have conquered the land, but after his death, it was Jarran that built the kingdom. From a disorganized land, he sculpted a prosperous, though small, nation. Trade flowed, education was available, and his land was at peace with its neighbors. The guild was kept out, and Lookshy appeased. The people were happy. It was like a golden age for the little province.


An old man, Jarran turned the kingdom over to his sons. He let them decide among themselves who would rule, and the younger, Miyan, took the throne. The elder, Otomon, preferred to remain in his position within the army. Jarran was a very pleased retired old man. For the first few years, at least. Then Miyan launched a series of ‘reforms’. They were, simply put, bald-faced government corruption. Jarran said nothing. After a year, Otomon decided he had enough of his corrupt brother, and with the army staged a coup. Again, Jarran said nothing, after all, perhaps Otomon would not make Miyan’s mistakes. Otomon threw his brother in the dungeons, and ruled with an iron fist. Jarran still said nothing. After two more years, Otomon decided that to quell the last vestigates of resistance, he would have Miyan executed. Jarran finally spoke out. He told Otomon and Miyan that they had both lost their way; that they had forgotten about the people. Jarran declared that he would take back the throne if they did not resolve to mend their ways. Both brothers laughed at their father, and Otomon had the army cast Jarran out of the kingdom, penniless.


That’s when the demon came to him. It commiserated at the upstarts that had overthrown his perfect order. It told him that its patrons understood. It offered him the power to try again, the power to create an even better kingdom. The Chrysalis restored his youth and his strength, and Jarran went forth happily to do the work of the Yozis, to build a better kingdom across all creation.





The Wise Monk


Scourge


Gray Heron


Concept:


A monk that has taught many students in the martial arts now takes up Infernal Monster style. His former wisdom is now colored with the lunacy of Adorjan, and his former calm is streaked with the rage of the Infernal Monster. His advice is subtly subversive, and his meek appearance deceiving.


Story:


Gray Heron lived in the monastery his entire life, or so he told people. He was dropped off as an orphan, and raised by the monks. He learned philosophy, martial arts, and tranquility of soul. So he told all his students that came to learn from the old man. This was a lie, but not the real lie of master Heron. Heron grey up an orphan on the streets of Nexus. He learned to fight and steal. Of course, he left that life and name behind when he joined the monastery. It was for the student’s benefit that he lied to them; after all, who would want to learn from a former street-thug?


He enjoyed his peaceful life in the monastery, training young students in philosophy and martial arts. He trained many pupils, but he was most proud of a young student named Silver Wing. She was his best student, and learned his combat lessons far swifter than most. He recommended her enthusiastically to the head of the order to be trained in Terrestrial Martial Arts. Then the Hunt came. They demanded his pupil, and in a moment of fear, he told them where she was hiding. They took her away, and he never saw her again.


Master Heron left the monastery that day, and on that very evening he met a demon on the road. It promised wisdom, enlightenment, and the power to be able to say ‘no’ the next time someone or something challenged him.


Now, Master Heron learns the enlightenment of Adorjan, and spouts the ever-so-slightly twisted philosophy of the Silent Wind. And the terrestrial martial arts that eluded him as a mortal are nothing compared to what he is capable of now.
 
I MUST be in this game! Well, I'd really like to be. Getting the chance to actually get in on a new infernal game has taken great patience. As for caste, I love Slayers and Fiends with equal feeling. Scourges are a second, distant, love. I can honestly say that I don't really favor Malefactors and Defilers.


Option 1 would be fun, though part of me wants to start at a lesser level, given that I've never actually played an Infernal. Just how much xp would be involved? I'll put some concepts together when I have a better idea of what level I'm shooting for.
 
I have not the time today to brainstorm a concept but I'll get something up Sunday or Monday hopefully to be looked at before decisions are made.
 
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