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Message: <blockquote data-quote="KingOfChaos" data-source="post: 1378554" data-attributes="member: 2375">Masro Demmarnu<a href="http://www.3eprofiler.net/3ep/view.php?id=4356" target="_blank">http://www.3eprofiler.net/3ep/view.php?id=4356</a>Masro is the son of a noble woman and the beggar which attacked and raped her one night during an annual ball in Linshulor City.  While she was ashamed of what happened, she kept the incident from her parents for fear that her abusive father would not only hunt down and kill the insane man, but also her for not being strong or smart enough to fend him off.  It wasn't until she began growing round with child that she quickly attached herself to a noble man, a member of the Linshulor Council, to be the child's father.  Not being very smart, the man accepted that he was the father, even though his mother was obviously pregnant when they married.  That aside, once Masro was born, his life wasn't a distasteful horror after horror like many would think.  In fact, he had a silver spoon in his mouth for most of his life, always held up high on a pedastle by both his mother and "father" and promised a place of power in Linshulor once he was grown.  However, a dark spirit rested inside Masro, for the man that had sired him has been possessed by some form of demonic spirit and the seed of that creature was beginning to form inside him like some sort of cancerous growth.  He suffered from black outs, painful headaches, and uncontrolled rages that often left his possessions and servants flung about, broken and bloody.  The fact that he had been taught magic from a very young age didn't help, since the supernatural contact with magic seemed to make whatever had started to grow inside him more aggressive.  After being arrested for the murder of a rival, Masro was placed under hypnotism by an alchemist and noted demon hunter and revealed that he was, indeed, possessed.  Unlike his real father, the spirit inside Masro was naturally a part of his body, making him a complete and utter psycopath that could never be trusted and his father and mother did the only thing they could.  They watched as their son, a danger to himself and others, was dragged off to prison and eventually to swing from the city gallows like a macabre pendulum.  A heavy iron torc was placed around his neck that sabotaged any spells that he tried to cast, for his parents had told the authorities that their son had a knack for casting spells with little more than a few words and gestures, not requiring the expensive material components that most wizards needed to create spells.  While incarcerated, Masro fell into a black mood.  His arrogance and conceit were more damaged than any sort of morales from murdering a man and he raged for days against the bars, bloodying both his head and arms from ramming them incessantly into metal slatted door of his cage.  In a final act of defiance, Masro slit his own wrists with bits of a ceramic plate that once held the slop the prison called food.  As the blood splurted from his wrists, he made an oath to whatever dark power maybe listening that he would serve them loyally should they feel the need to make him reborn into this world a free man.  As the darkness of death descended upon Masro, someone answered.Grazzt heard Masro's plea and sent a servant to dig up his body and spirit it away to her hovel in the nearby swamps of Halashro.  The old hag, once a beautiful and powerful servant of Grazzt had been looking for a way to atone herself to her lord, and remaking this man into a weapon for him would be the best way she could do that.  After resurrecting him, she explained to Masro that he had been chosen by her patron to be an integral part of his plans on the future.  She offered him not only his life, but training in the magical arts that he had never experienced in the humdrum magic school he had attended as a child.  She gave him one book of dark magic after another to read and study and watched as the lore itself seemed to drain the life and strength from her student as it had once done to her.  His long red hair became streaked with gray and the firm skin of his youthful face seemed to almost droop toward the book as he read.  He felt his vitality drain from him, but he didn't care, for the knowledge laid before him was powerful and full of purpose.  It told him how to summon and bind demons to his will, how to force his fellow man to do what he wanted without protest, and other dire secrets which seemed to fill every wrinkle in his brain.  He didn't eat or sleep for weeks, sustained simply by the magic instilled in the books.  Before long, though, his body couldn't handle anymore and he passed out.  When he awoke, the magic, the hovel, and the hag were all gone and he simply sat in the chair he had fell asleep in.  The jungle noises around him were strong, but he had been left a note.  It read "When you are ready, I will return with more" and was left unsigned.  Until her return, he had to find a place where he could hide.  He didn't want anyone to know who he was or what he had done until he gained back his strength and could return for his revenge.  He had heard people speak of a city called Brodhurst, where one such as he could be safely lost in the general vile and despicable nature of the city.  He was sure he could find a niche to fill there, until he was ready. Appearance:  Masro is a tall man, though you wouldn't know because his back seems almost hunched with age.  He wears tattered red robes which fit snugly to his gaunt body over which he wears a rather elaborately woven black cloak which obviously has a touch of magic in it.  His face is aged unnaturally and his right eye is milky and blind, often being covered by an eye patch to avoid startling anyone too much.  Other than this, his face is almost a perfect creation of bony planes and points, making him look like a lich rather than a man.  His teeth, many missing, are snaggled and virtually useless and various scars cut across the wrinkled flesh of his body.  His hair is long, but thinning, and is the color of blood streaked with grey dust. He carries a ruby studded staff as a weapon and aid in spellcasting, though he is hardly strong enough to weild it in combat.  Despite his fraility, Masro seems to find health in magic and doesn't seem to be dying anytime soon.Despite the robe he wears, Masro isn't a poor man.  He owns a small well defended building in Brodhurst where he and his small cult gathers weekly to praise Grazzt.  Other than these gatherings, he attempts to keep to himself, often fighting off a much needed desire to slay those who annoy him in order to remain outside the public eye.  Despite this, he has fended off several assassination attempts and finds that the cruddy robes make him look transient and unimportant.Important Goals:  Masro is currently researching a way to permanently possess a powerful demon in order to throw off the broken body he is currently trapped in.  This research involves powerful tomes of magic that seem to drain the life out of him just by opening their covers, but Masro knows that he will succumb to his rapid aging if he doesn't find a way to fully stop or reverse it.  He has not heard from the Lashna the Hag since their first meeting.  He would like to pay the old bitch back for making him read those books and plans on putting a well placed dagger between her wretched ribs should she show her face around him again.</blockquote>

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