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Chains of Asmodeus (RG)
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<blockquote data-quote="drool" data-source="post: 9300440" data-attributes="member: 7045130"><p><strong>Name :</strong> Damocles Siannodel</p><p><strong>Pronouns</strong>: He / Him</p><p><strong>Race:</strong> Hexblood</p><p><strong>Class:</strong> Clockwork Sorcerer 11</p><p></p><p><strong>Backstory:</strong> Some are born in burning houses, others cradled by the glint of silver spoons. But Damocles? His journey began with nothing more than a humble bucket and trowel grasped in his hands. Far as he could recollect, he'd been groundskeeping for his creator, Sorwynn the Bedlam Shepherd.</p><p></p><p>A brazen and ambitious curator of an expansive menagerie located within' the fey realm. The longer time accrued, the larger the reserve became, needing more enclosures to be built, which meant more mouths to be fed, meaning Sorwynn needed more hands. And such was the birth of Damocles Siannodel.</p><p></p><p>At first, things were simple, tasks any layman could manage whether it be filling water troughs or cleaning the enclosures. And though the tasks were simple, the creatures they'd be done around were not. See, the menagerie Sorwynn had created was like no other. She had no interest in herding cattle or collecting barn eggs. Sorwynn wished to create a home for the arduous, the burdensome. She wanted to captivate the bizarre, and any creature that'd exhibited those traits could rest assured that it'd find itself a permanent residence at the menagerie.</p><p></p><p>Years of camaraderie, wisdom, and close calls quickly passed Damocles, each year he left a little more knowledgeable, and with a little less unscathed skin. The labor wore him down, scars of his trade marked him thoroughly, scratches and bruises becoming habitual. But in his wear and tear, he found an invaluable tool, the utility the creatures offered, the same creatures he cared for day in and day out, it was endless.</p><p></p><p>The reserve continued to grow but Sorwynn had run out of land, she couldn't afford to expand further, everything around was owned by other locals. Strings would have to be pulled, ones that were perhaps too out of reach for the woman, and she'd soon go missing.</p><p></p><p><strong>Artwork: [ATTACH=full]354162[/ATTACH]</strong></p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="drool, post: 9300440, member: 7045130"] [B]Name :[/B] Damocles Siannodel [B]Pronouns[/B]: He / Him [B]Race:[/B] Hexblood [B]Class:[/B] Clockwork Sorcerer 11 [B]Backstory:[/B] Some are born in burning houses, others cradled by the glint of silver spoons. But Damocles? His journey began with nothing more than a humble bucket and trowel grasped in his hands. Far as he could recollect, he'd been groundskeeping for his creator, Sorwynn the Bedlam Shepherd. A brazen and ambitious curator of an expansive menagerie located within' the fey realm. The longer time accrued, the larger the reserve became, needing more enclosures to be built, which meant more mouths to be fed, meaning Sorwynn needed more hands. And such was the birth of Damocles Siannodel. At first, things were simple, tasks any layman could manage whether it be filling water troughs or cleaning the enclosures. And though the tasks were simple, the creatures they'd be done around were not. See, the menagerie Sorwynn had created was like no other. She had no interest in herding cattle or collecting barn eggs. Sorwynn wished to create a home for the arduous, the burdensome. She wanted to captivate the bizarre, and any creature that'd exhibited those traits could rest assured that it'd find itself a permanent residence at the menagerie. Years of camaraderie, wisdom, and close calls quickly passed Damocles, each year he left a little more knowledgeable, and with a little less unscathed skin. The labor wore him down, scars of his trade marked him thoroughly, scratches and bruises becoming habitual. But in his wear and tear, he found an invaluable tool, the utility the creatures offered, the same creatures he cared for day in and day out, it was endless. The reserve continued to grow but Sorwynn had run out of land, she couldn't afford to expand further, everything around was owned by other locals. Strings would have to be pulled, ones that were perhaps too out of reach for the woman, and she'd soon go missing. [B]Artwork: [ATTACH type="full"]354162[/ATTACH][/B] [/QUOTE]
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