Kilnoc, The Sufferer

A vagrant soul from beyond. His origin is unknown, but he appears in myths and legends dating far before recorded history and across nearly all races. All stories surrounding him speak of death, terror, and great fear. He is said to stand over seven feet tall, in some stories he has more than two arms. While those that have seen him that managed to survive say that he appeared out of nowhere, his form is lumbering and slow. Yet when he attacks, he is as fast as lightening, and he fells blows of death with swift absolution. Some even believe that he is only to be spoken of, and if anyone were to write about him or craft images in his likeness that the creator of those things and all around them would be doomed. Kilnoc is named the sufferer because it is believed that he feels the pain, both physical and mental, of all who believe that he exists. The toll of such concentrated anguish has set him upon a quest to sever himself from his eternal suffering by ending the existence of those who unknowingly lay their agonies against him. His body is covered in scars from old wounds, none of these were inflicted by others, but evidence of his early attempts to kill himself which proved fruitless. His lifeforce is eternal, he can only attempt to lessen his grief by culling the number of his believers. Cults have intermittently risen throughout history, worshiping him as the god of death, and even some as the god of life. None off these cults stood the test of time, undoubtedly being vanquished by their god Kilnoc himself.
Though he kills without remorse, he does follow a self imposed set of laws. Several of which have been gleaned by those sifting through the ashes left behind in the wake of his wrath. Kilnoc never willingly takes the life of a child, for their pains are small and their sorrows few. Neither has he been known to harm livestock, his torment only linked to sentient beings. While he may burn away the crops and planted trees of such creatures, his powers have always stopped short of forest. Some have theorized that this is because forest breed innocent life and that perhaps he is brought pleasure from the faultlessness of such places, only seeking to end the supply of food for those that build onto his disparity.
One story of Kilnoc seems to go entirely against what is believed about him and is widely regarded as utter fallacy. Whether the story's conception was one's attempt to spread pity for the creature or is grounded in any truth has been the topic of many firelit conversations, and even argued by philosophical lore masters in their great libraries. The fable goes as follows:

Once there was a small tribe who made their home at the foot of a great mountain, nestled between a winding river and a thick forest. For many years they lived off the land in peace until a series of events threw them into a pit of inescapable despair. The tribe's home sit on the border of two powerful nations, who at the time were vying for land and set out in conquest against each other. The existence of either nation was unknown to the tribe, and their livelihood inconsequential to the already determined armies converging around them. Their huts were burned and many of the men slain, their wives captured and children sacrificed to unholy gods of war. A few members of the tribe escaped the fate of their kin only to face a new horror. The shaking of the earth under the feet of the battling armies disturbed the great mountain. The ground shook, and the peak of the mountain burst forth with rage of rock and fire. The forest burned, their home buried beneath the streams of lava, and the river was heated into vapor. When the armies retreated from their losses after the mountains eruption and the earth calmed, those of the tribe that remained returned to where their home was to find a wasteland. They could not find the bodies of their loved ones for proper burial or mourning. They lifted their hands to the sky, crying out to any god that would hear them. Screaming up curses, begging for help, or asking why they had been forsaken after being only ever peaceful. Their tears fell to the charred ground at their feet, such sorrow and yearning filled their hearts. Suddenly as if an answer from the gods a creature appeared before them, unlike anything they had ever seen. It stood before them, cloaked in purple robes that flowed down in layers around it. The creature was Kilnoc, summoned by the greatness of the grief carried by the tribe. He looked around at the devastation, and stared at the weeping faces of the broken souls surrounding him. He did not speak, and they dared not speak to him. His presence demanded fear. One of his long arms emerged from the depths of his robe holding open his four fingered hand. A crude dagger of bone and jade materialized in his hand, his fingers wrapped around it coldly. The tribespeople began to fear that their end was nigh and fell to their hands and knees, having no where to run. Kilnoc raised the dagger above his head. Waves of deep, thunderous, otherworldly sounds emitted from his being and crashed against the helpless people, throwing them on their backs. He thrust the dagger into his stomach and fell to his knees then pulled out the dagger, his acid green blood poured out of him. It flowed into the earth as he let out a shrilling howl, before vanishing as quickly as he had appeared. Stunned, the people watched in amazement as the destruction around them peeled away outward in all directions from where his blood had been spilled. The volcanic rock turned to ash and was carried away with the wind. Water gushed from the winding path of the river until it flowed again greater than before. Plants and trees sprung up from fresh soil, bearing fruit and all manner of flowers. While their homes were gone, they could be rebuilt. The people constructed a monument to their dead which became the center of their future city. Within short years their numbers multiplied vastly, ever supplied by the fertile land gifted to them from Kilnoc. While they revered him as a god, they also feared him in appearance and vowed to never summon him lest they incur his wrath and he take away all that he had given them. The tribe became a great nation, and rivaled that of the nations who had warred around them. For many ages they held peace, until they had forgotten their past, then joined the rest of the warring nations in the world. Which of these nations owns this story is not known, and the truth of it lost to time.

Hair

Horned

Skin Tone/Pigmentation

Pale pink