Akane Hayate
A tiefling woman raced across a violent battlefield, the pounding of her heart louder than the screams of dying soldiers, the clanging of metal bashing against metal, and the guttural war cry of a daemon the size of a great oak. As she dashed through hellfire and war, her sanguine-painted cloak flapped violently behind her, her pulled-back hood revealing a set of black horns painted in fiendish blood, her ocean blue skin slit and scarred by the rending claws of night's beasts. An infernal imp the size of a horse crashed before her, roaring with savage rage. It swiped at her, throwing its entire body behind the force of the swing, lurching forward as massive claws sharper than razor's edge rent through the air. The woman ducked, drawing a rapier forged of bluesteel as she dropped, nicking her finger and sliding it across the blade's edge. She vaulted at the beast, flicking her wrist and slashing her sword in an arc. The air seemingly screaming as she sliced through the creature's throat, the blood within flash froze, exploding as it made contact with the open air. The imp fell to the ground, writhing and screaming curses of death and infanticide in what remained of its now obliterated infernal tongue. The woman spared no heed nor concern, continuing her sprint across the battlefield, desperate to find her brother-in-arms. She ran at full speed, ducking through fire and steel as she raced to the core of battle, where the turmoil rocked the earth and suffering wracked the mortal realm. As she ran, tremors rose up from the ground into her feet, and the entirety of the earth shook and trembled, quivering as if a power too great to inhabit the world was making its way through the ground. She stopped and gazed in awe.
Bwyta'r Byd, Devourer of Realms, Wyrm Scorn of the Kingdom of Tonnau rose up from the very depths of the earth, its hundred eyes flittering about its flared mane, massive wings the span of entire villages spreading apart to their full grandeur, a roar that sounded of a war cry in a tongue more ancient than time ringing across the sky. The ground below began to break apart and levitate, the world bending to the Wyrm God's will. The woman fell to her knees and stabbed her blade into the floating earth, barely holding steady upon the now weightless terrain. As she struggled to inch her way back onto her feet, she saw a lone man standing before the Wyrm, a long, flowing hood dripping with the blood of a thousand monsters wrapped around his neck. The man's hair was a dark cherry red, curly and messy and dirty, ungroomed and untamed yet distinguished. His clothes were a tattered mess that even from afar seemed to glow and hum, radiant energies pulsing within the fabric of his torn undershirt and trousers. In one hand, the man carried a massive glaive, wet with a lustrous, golden ichor on either of its large blades. In the other, the man held a gigantic tooth, a fang the size of half his body welded and forged to a rod of red-hot steel. The fang was golden and black, sharper than the blackness of a moonless night sky, and was drenched in the same radiant blood as the glaive. From afar the woman could only make out one thing upon his face.
He was grinning.
Smiling.
By every god upon the other plains, she despised this goddamn bastard of a man more than anything she could fucking fathom. With a huff, she pulled herself upon her knees, still balancing upon the small chunk of land that seemed to be unchained by gravity. One hand steady upon the blade, the other cupping halfway around her mouth, she yelled at the top of her lungs.
"Hayate!"
The grinning man swiveled his head to her direction, making eye contact and smiling wide.
"Fucking annihilate him, you jackass!"
The man's grin became a big, toothy smile, pure elation apparent in every corner of his face.
Gods, she hated that shit-eating smirk.
He turned away, a kind of mystical golden fire enveloping him, a second set of great tremors beginning to rock the earth as the man ascended to something greater than he had been. The woman watched as his skin began to burn slightly black, his body becoming charred like tempered steel. The ichor lathered upon his blades began to shine and sing, reforging the weapons into divine killing machines. He stood apart from the Wyrm God, the size of an ant compared to the almighty greatness of the Devourer of Realms, yet somehow gave off an aura that said that the two beings were nothing if not equal.
The woman then watched him go to work, as her friend began his first legendary battle with servants of the goddess Tiamat.
Bwyta'r Byd, Devourer of Realms, Wyrm Scorn of the Kingdom of Tonnau rose up from the very depths of the earth, its hundred eyes flittering about its flared mane, massive wings the span of entire villages spreading apart to their full grandeur, a roar that sounded of a war cry in a tongue more ancient than time ringing across the sky. The ground below began to break apart and levitate, the world bending to the Wyrm God's will. The woman fell to her knees and stabbed her blade into the floating earth, barely holding steady upon the now weightless terrain. As she struggled to inch her way back onto her feet, she saw a lone man standing before the Wyrm, a long, flowing hood dripping with the blood of a thousand monsters wrapped around his neck. The man's hair was a dark cherry red, curly and messy and dirty, ungroomed and untamed yet distinguished. His clothes were a tattered mess that even from afar seemed to glow and hum, radiant energies pulsing within the fabric of his torn undershirt and trousers. In one hand, the man carried a massive glaive, wet with a lustrous, golden ichor on either of its large blades. In the other, the man held a gigantic tooth, a fang the size of half his body welded and forged to a rod of red-hot steel. The fang was golden and black, sharper than the blackness of a moonless night sky, and was drenched in the same radiant blood as the glaive. From afar the woman could only make out one thing upon his face.
He was grinning.
Smiling.
By every god upon the other plains, she despised this goddamn bastard of a man more than anything she could fucking fathom. With a huff, she pulled herself upon her knees, still balancing upon the small chunk of land that seemed to be unchained by gravity. One hand steady upon the blade, the other cupping halfway around her mouth, she yelled at the top of her lungs.
"Hayate!"
The grinning man swiveled his head to her direction, making eye contact and smiling wide.
"Fucking annihilate him, you jackass!"
The man's grin became a big, toothy smile, pure elation apparent in every corner of his face.
Gods, she hated that shit-eating smirk.
He turned away, a kind of mystical golden fire enveloping him, a second set of great tremors beginning to rock the earth as the man ascended to something greater than he had been. The woman watched as his skin began to burn slightly black, his body becoming charred like tempered steel. The ichor lathered upon his blades began to shine and sing, reforging the weapons into divine killing machines. He stood apart from the Wyrm God, the size of an ant compared to the almighty greatness of the Devourer of Realms, yet somehow gave off an aura that said that the two beings were nothing if not equal.
The woman then watched him go to work, as her friend began his first legendary battle with servants of the goddess Tiamat.
Children
Eyes
Dark brown, big and folded
Hair
Curly, Unkempt, Dark Red, Cherry-ish
Height
6'2"
Weight
165 lbs.
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