Canorsolanim
"The loyalty of mortals is finite, and so is their love. Only power is infinite. So pray to me, worship me, but make no mistake! The fount of my power shall be none but myself. The weak cower under the heel of the strong-- and I will never be weak again."
Shea's loyal sword and best friend, a bloodthirsty and bitchy Blade Demon with a millennia's worth of scars of his own. A quote from Shea, to explain Blade Demons in as few words as possible: "Basically just think of it as, the sword is alive, and the alive part is Canor." He goes along with Shea's heroic antics (with only minimal bitching and moaning) out of the power of friendship, but would also just as happily set orphanages on fire for fun. An unlikely pair to be sure, but Canor and Shea are a dynamic duo that can't be beat, nor can any force on earth break their ride-or-die bond. Canor mostly stays hidden inside the sword when others are around, only materializing to fight, or when they're alone-- the element of surprise gains them advantage in battle, to be sure, but the main reason is just because Canor is kind of a cunt and he doesn't like people. Shea is the only exception.
Canor is prickly, selfish, and grouchy. He doesn't think people are worth all the bother of saving, but he indulges Shea's desire to do good even if he genuinely disagrees-- he doesn't just complain for the sake of appearances. He has mellowed out a bit since knowing her, but he'd never admit that. It's not just his personality that craves violence, though, and motivates him to seek bloodshed at every turn. Blood magic is an ancient, powerful kind of magic that blade demons like Canor thrive on. Every time blood is spilled on his blade, or by him, he grows a little stronger. It's not just out of vanity that Canor wants to become more powerful (though his vanity is not to be understated) but out of true need. For centuries before he met Shea, Canor had been neglected, imprisoned, and degraded, to the point where he had been weakened and withered almost fatally less than ten years ago. To an ancient spirit like Canor, ten years is practically the blink of an eye, so it is a very sore, recent wound.
Canor is both very frank and very private about his past. He speaks openly about having fought in the War of Nine, the ancient war fought between gods, in service of his divine master, and the battles he participated in. He is unashamed and gratuitous in sharing about all the blood he's shed, villains and innocents alike he's slain. He will mention his old master, the one who owned and commanded him before Shea existed, the god he was originally forged for, and he will not be shy in the slightest about declaring his seething hatred for that master, that he was subjugated and wronged irreproachably by him, and that he will never be so weak or at another's mercy again, but he will not name his old master, or go into detail about what exactly he suffered. He hates being that vulnerable.
Canor is flamboyant and sassy, though that sass often borders on being downright mean-- he can be extremely catty. He's somewhat possessive, and part of him rankles at the thought of Shea ever one day not needing him as much as he admittedly needs her. Though he's not one to express these kinds of softer emotions, he's deeply afraid of ever losing Shea, painfully hyper-aware of her mortal fragility. Frankly, this level of attachment to anyone is enough to scare him on its own, and part of him truly hates it, but he's in far too deep now to be willing to let go, no matter how much he resents relying on someone. He wishes he could be completely, fully independent, but he's not.
Canor is a being made for battle. Other than being the literal embodiment of a legendary blade, he is a masterful fighter in his own right. He can conjure blades of his own to weild in combat, favouring lethal throwing knives that he can unleash in a flurry of bladed projectiles, and wicked sharp daggers. His wings, too, which he can move independently like a dragonfly, can slice easily as anything through most materials, including metal, stone, flesh, and bone-- a single beat of them could cut a person to ribbons. He can control whether or not his wings will cut, though, to avoid having an ally (or Shea, especially) accidentally get chopped up like a cucumber for standing too close when he turns around.
Some of Canor's other powers include incredible physical strength, near-indestructible durability, flight (he does have wings, after all), teleportation (within a certain distance of his blade), and throwing shade. He can also shapeshift to a degree, but that requires more power than he's had in a long time.
Canor has his own mini pocket realm within his blade he can pop in and out of at will-- when he's in the sword, that's where he is. It's not the same as other full realms, it's like the plane equivalent of a snowglobe. While in there, he's undetectable to most people unless they happen to have a very strong third eye or psychic ability, but other non-mortal entities like fae, spirits, and deities would be able to sense his presence as easily as if he were standing right in front of them. Because his den-realm is attached to his blade, it is technically attached to the physical realm (or wherever else the blade happens to be) so he is able to hear and sense things going on right outside.
He's also able to carry things in and out of his den-realm. This is pretty handy for storage, and Shea takes full advantage of this to not have to lug around a ton of camping gear while they're on the move, so her tent, most of her supplies, extra weapons, and backup duplicates of everything (just in case) are all kept there. Canor leaves all that stuff in a big heap on the floor. He can also bring people in, too-- except Shea, what with her being his blade's weilder-- but there's never been occasion for it before.
Lo, be warned, brave traveller, for there be spoilers ahead!
Mental characteristics
Personal history
Canorsolanim, like all other blade demons, wasn't always actually a blade demon. Nothing is ever made from nothing, after all, and just as a sword must be forged out of its raw materials, so too does the demon of that sword. Once, ages ago in the era of the Ancient World, Canor was a Grand Fae from the Violet Vale, a dark fae realm. Grand Fae are rare, already among the more powerful of fae 'nobility', and are guardians of potent magical springs which connect to the dreaming realm, and from there seep through into the mortal realm. Canor was always ambitious, hungry-- hungry for more, for greater, than the dull serenity of his isolated gilded fountain. He was a creature meant for pure selfish hedonistic decadent indulgence, he wanted. To want was the greatest curse of all, but Canor never hesitated to feed the beast, even knowing it would never be sated. So he rebelled, and wandered, abandoning his spring, and hunted for new pleasures.
He spent most of his time partying it up with various sleazy demons in their realms. For a few centuries, though on the scale of Canor's lifespan these was merely his wild youth, he glutted himself on riches and revelry, partaking intemperately, greedily, in feast and drink and lust. He took part in almost too many demon orgies to keep track of.
Then, the War of Nine began, the great war fought between all the gods and all their loyal across all domains and realms. The Forge Father Ferus, when creating the Legendary Weapons and for the gods, chose Canorsolanim to become a blade demon for his interminable power of will. Ever incorrigibly ambitious, Canor eagerly accepted, and was thus reborn in Ferus' forge sharpened, immensely more powerful, prideful, a new type of being-- he was now the Death Sword. He was among the first of the blade demons.
There were others, of course, and Canor knew them all, as Ferus waited until all the Legendary Weapons had been forged before giving any of them to the gods they were forged for. It was a brief, liminal time. Though he didn't care much for his 'siblings', finding most of them irritating, or beneath him in some way, and also knowing he would soon face many of them in battle, made for war as they were, there was another blade demon he found himself begrudgingly fond of. One of the youngest ones, Firaelle, the White Sword of Dawn. They were opposites in nearly every conceivable way, but for some reason Canor couldn't fathom, he had an affectionate bond with his little sister. A was a bit of a weird one, fae-winged like him, she had trouble with her memory, and Canor felt somewhat protective over her.
More's the pity, then, that their divine masters would turn out to be immortal enemies. The White Sword of Dawn was weilded by Veniathan, the goddess of time and memory. The Death Sword was weilded by E'erendar, the god of the End of All Things.
There was a reason Canor was chosen by Ferus for his force of will. The forge god believed any being even a fraction less resilient than Canor would not have been able to withstand being the blade of E'erendar. The god of eternal absence was a cruel and hateful god, and a loathsome master. Though Canor was wholly loyal to him from the beginning, E'erendar was dissatisfied with Canor's ambitious, rebellious nature. He conquered Canor's mind by force, utterly dominating his entire will and self, nearly shattering his mind and spirit in the process, so Canor's complete existence would revolve solely and wholly around him, and he would forget all else, no nothing else, but being perfectly, fervently subservient to E'erendar. It worked, but even then it would not save Canor from his master's cruel hand. E'erendar preferred to have Canor manifested outside of his blade most of the time, to act as an agent of E'erendar's divine conquest and command his legions. If ever Canor failed to carry out E'erendar's orders he would be punished with horrific torture. Sometimes E'erendar would torture him just because he could-- Canor could survive pretty much anything, after all. It was the worst kind of hell, yet Canor still adored his master, because he had no choice, he had been reprogrammed to. And, not only was Canor really, really good at killing, he loved it. He lived and longed for battle and bloodshed, and understood nothing else.
Under E'erendar, Canorsolanim was less than a slave, less than a thing, less than a weapon. He was never truly broken, though. Ferus had been right; Canor could, and did, endure.
The War of Nine ended, and with it so too did the era of the Ancient World. E'erendar was defeated and imprisoned, but in the final hour E'erendar did to Canor what was both his kindest and cruelest act. He took the blade, the Death Sword, and pierced Canor's core with it, driving it into him until the demon and blade were all but fused into one. The blade contained within the demon rather than the other way around, Canor had full independent mobility, no longer leashed to his master's side, and became more powerful than ever. It also almost destroyed him, and he bears the scar of it to this day, the only scar he has, a deep crack in his core-gem that spiders up around his neck and up towards his eye. E'erendar did this so that Canor would be able to evade capture by their enemies, and set into motion a plan to free E'erendar from his divine prison, so the god of the End of All Things could lay waste to the universe once more.
Canor was as compelledly devout as ever. He toiled and slaved for exactly one hundred years to destroy E'erendar's shackles and return his master to the mortal realm. He did everything perfectly, and though E'erendar's cult of mortal followers had grown, it was solely thanks too Canorsolanim that E'erendar was freed. The void god was defeated again, though, by his old enemy Veniathan, in her second mortal vessel, weilding that same white sword. Incensed with rage, E'erendar turned the blame on Canor, and branded him a traitor for failing him. E'erendar's hold on his will was shattered, and Canor was abandoned in the mortal realm, sealed within his blade, supposedly, forevermore. The Cult of End kept him, renaming him Canorsolanim the Disavowed, and would put his blade, now his prison, up on a twisted altar of denigration to debase, mock, and humiliate him.
Canor withered away like that for centuries upon centuries, tormented by the spiteful hate of the followers of End, overcome by fury and betrayal, obsessed now with revenge. He was able to feel every loathing word and curse hurtled at him from congregation after congregation, yet was going mad in bitter isolation. After what felt like an eternity, the once mighty demon blade Canorsolanim had nearly faded away to nothing.
Nearly, until something else one day started coming through the abhorrent deluge. Something small, and new, but bright and strong. An interminable force of will, a rebellious, ambitious spirit. A prayer, for him. No mortal had ever prayed to Canor before, but now suddenly, though the decayed demon couldn't fathom how, or why, he had all of one devotee. "You are like me," the prayer said, "damned from the beginning, doomed from the start. Even though you were strong, it didn't save you. I am weak, but I will not fail. I will not give in."
Canor latched with all he had onto the lifeline that these little, young prayers were. They sustained him when otherwise he might have wasted away completely. When all hell broke loose and Canor was wrenched once more back out of his blade to be sacrificed only to end up instead discarded like refuse once more, he came face to face with the one who had given him a taste of faith: Shea, the youngest princess of Dymin, a girl of only thirteen years old but with an undeniable ferocity already in her eyes. Her prayers were the only reason he then had the strength to speak, to tell her to drive his blade into his core again, and when she did, they were the only reason he had the strength to survive it.
They fled Dymin together, and Canor has been by his new little sister's side since.
Gender Identity
Canorsolanim is one of those kinds of "entity that transcends gender" characters, but obviously not in the way that the character is cis/gender-conforming presenting anyways, which to be candid does frustrate me as a queer person to see in fiction. Canor transcends human gender constraints not just as a non-mortal, non-human entity, but also in the way that a regular human drag queen does. "Drag Queen" is mostly how I describe Canor's gender presentation, actually-- a blend of masculine and feminine that is subversive, outrageous, flamboyant, and in many ways pointedly, purposefully provocative, even somewhat aggressive in its difference. He's non-binary, he's extra-binary, he's fabulous, he's fatal-- he's impossible to define in simple terms.
Sexuality
I suppose one could describe Canor as a habitual but not obligate homosexual. He just likes to party. His sexual history mostly involves other demons or fae-- he's historically not that picky in that respect, where gender is less of a conundrum than amongst mortals, hence the habitual but obligate-- and human mortals in general aren't really that appealing to him, so he doesn't get as much action when limited to the mortal realm, but when beggars can't be choosers, a male partner has a higher chance of being suited to his tastes than a female partner. It's not really that complicated, I don't think, but not as easy to sum up in one or two words.
Mental Trauma
Due to his generally frought personal history, Canor really struggles with attachments, and is especially unequipped to handle loss or change. He's deeply, paralyzingly paranoid about Shea's mortal fragility, aware that he's in too deep to take any of it back, and also extremely, painfully aware of the fact that Shea, as a mortal human being, can not live forever, but the inevitable reality of her eventual death has thus far been resolutely ignored and will continue to be until it is no longer possible. Canor has no idea what he will do when Shea is gone, but given that it would almost assuredly result in the loss of his only tether to stability and sanity, he'll probably go completely off the deep end and go on an epicly destructive mass murderous rampage until he burns out entirely. Is that what Shea would want? No, of course not. But it's not like she'll be around to tell him off, so bloody carnage it will be.
The party's rogue, the blade
As an archaic spirit, Canor has this handy little quirk where all human language sounds the same to him, therefore he can understand and use all of it. Unfortunately for everyone else, despite being practically a living, universal rosetta stone, Canor can't-- or wouldn't bother to-- distinguish different languages from each other and therefore identify what language he's actually hearing for anyone's benefit, even if he knows what's being said. No particular human language sounds at all unique or distinct to him. This is why he never clocks Siromsja's Old Tirosanioth vocabulary, even though by all means he should have clued in to that on day one.
Canor's Blade
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