WARNING!!: This is the darkest piece of fiction i've ever written, Though it is also probably the best. If you do not like dark things such as Blood, Gore, Torture, and Grotesque DragonForce Puns do not read ahead.
This character was originally made for an rp of all Half-breeds, so when you see an animall's name mentioned, its actually a half breed of that animal and a human.
Name: Herman Li
Species: Half-Dragon
Age: 48
Sex: Male
Fur/Hair color: Red Scales
Alignment: Evil | Evil
Themesong: When You're Evil -- Voltaire
Appearance: Herman stands at an above-average height, topping off at 6'2". He is also quite a bit heavier thanks to his long powerful wings and tail that is almost as long as he is and half as thick. His body is covered in thick tough red scales. Most of these scales have chips or scratches all about them, obviously denoting some serious wear and tear in earlier years. He has a row of orange spikes starting with a 10" long horn on his for head and the about 25 more trailing up over his head and down his back all the way to the end of his tail, all other spikes being only 1" in length. He keeps his claws long, jagged, and razor sharp. He has several scars on his back, chest, and legs. All of which seem to be made by either whips or blades. He has one particularly nasty scar directly over his left eye, which seems to have sealed that eye permanently. His one single open eye seems too have been affected by the slash to his left one too it seems to be constantly squinting as if to see something far off. His muzzle is long and just as ragged and worn as the rest of his body, with a slight discoloration to being a tad lighter than the rest of his body. He keeps his teeth sharpened to a fine point, with extra special attention taken to his canines, making them into more serrated knifes than teeth, yet somehow his gums never bleed from this abuse... they probably just grew used to it.
His wings are the same color red as the rest of his body, with the webbing being a more tan color. His wingspan is just over 8" and there are small little spikes at the vertex of each wing. The webbing has been torn and tattered in several places, and the ends of them seem to have been brunt and charred a bit.
As far as apparel goes, he normally wears a large white T-Shirt to cover up the nasty looking scars on his torso. But other than that not much else. He has a pair of specially made gloves that cover his claws perfectly until he is ready to harm people.
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Personality: Herman is, for lack of any words that can truly describe it, a sadist in all senses of the word. He loves to see people in pain, whether it be physical, mental, emotional, or what have you. Though physical is his hands down favorite. The sick pleasure of sinking his claws deep into his prey's flesh gives Herman that little shiver down his spine that he lives for.
Then again, he's not above using psychological torture if physical pain can't break his prey.
Herman has an air of extreme confidence about him that is bordering on arrogance. As far as he is concerned, there is no being on the planet that can escape his grasp. At least no one has as of yet.
Whenever he is not stalking his next prey, he puts on a facade of being a very good, very nice, very polite, upstanding citizen. All of which he puts on as well as a long-studied stage actor. All emotions emulated perfectly, yet none of them truly real at all. The only emotions he seems truly capable of is anger and joy, both of which he tends to feel in equal amounts at all times. Anger towards his enemies for not being dead yet, and immense joy at the thought of when they would be.
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Backstory: When the great evil known as Herman Li came into the world, he was no more evil or malicious than the next guy. He was always a good kid, never got into fights at school; he just tried his hardest to be nice to all his friends, of which he had many. Overall he was a popular kid and well liked by just about everyone.
But, at the age of 15 his whole world changed. In his homeland of Forcila (Pronunciation: force-ill-A) the law was that by the age of 15 all men were required to enlist in the military or lose many citizen rights (see: Starship Troopers). This was no big deal at the time, the nation had been at peace for many years, and the peace seemed to be stable enough to resist a bulldozer.
Sadly though, only a few weeks after he joined the military, a wrecking ball came and shattered such peace, at least for Herman, in the form of a revolutionary group bombing the capitol. Luckily no one very important to the chain of command was harmed, and the agents who carried the attack out were arrested on the same day. All in all, the plan was an absolute and total failure, but it was still enough for the military to take them seriously enough to strike back. Herman was assigned as the scout for this mission, his name had been randomly drafted, he had next to no training or field knowledge, he had to rely on his own skills and inborn strength, which his people had in abundance. But, alas, so did his opposition, and they were trained. He was sent out in front of the rest of his team too gather information on the enemy position, and then return with the intel, and let the rest of the strike team take them out. He didn't comeback from that mission for over 20 years.
He was upon their base. It was a simple unmarked building, it could've easily been mistaken for an innocent warehouse was it not for it's placement in the middle of nowhere. He was observing the building from the dense foliage of the forest surrounding the building.
Herman began to speak into his microphone slowly and quietly. "Soldier of the wasteland, this is the storm. Do you copy? Over."
The microphone crackled for a moment. Then the answer came back. "Copy Fury, this is Wasteland. Whad'ya got? Over."
He answered back slowly, and even more quietly. The damn codenames were really not nessacary, its not like anyone knew or cared who they were."I am in front of the Valley of the Damned. It is a relatively small, one story building directly south of where you were when I left. The guard seems to be extremely lax, and the only visible entrance is a set of large steel double doors right in the front of the buil- GACK!!" He was cut off by a horrible stabbing pain in his back. Literally. He looked down and saw the very tip of a dagger poking at his flesh from the other side, just barely stopping from breaking through. He turned around and, without thinking tackled his assailant to the ground. His claws, which had just begun to develop, did only superficial damage to the enemy combatant. He lowered his fist down once on the mystery attacker as hard as he possibly could, and knocked her out cold. Yes, it turns out that the assailant was a female.
With a great roar, he pulled the dagger out from his back. Lucky him, no major organs seemed to be pierced.... or at least the adrenaline had stopped him from feeling it yet. The loss of blood made him somewhat disoriented, so he stumbled out into the open. The few guards that were on duty, 5 of them to be exact, saw him, recognized that he was not one of their own. And attacked him on the spot. He miraculously was able to take all of them on for well over a minute, when they all charged him at once, pinning him to the ground. He blacked out a few seconds later.
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Two days later.
Herman woke up with the most unbearable headache. Damn he needed an aspirin. He looked around and surveyed his surroundings. He was in a plain white room; his hands were tied behind his back with rope, as were his legs tied together. He slowly began to grate the ropes on his arms against his spines; whoever tied him up obviously did not think it through. Once he got the ropes sliced off of his arms he tested the walls, dry wall. At full strength he'd be able to smash through this with relative ease. Just a simple SMASH would've done it. But now he was half starved, half dehydrated and suffering from intense internal bleeding. All he could do was hope that they fed him, and that he'd get a chance to regain his strength before he attempted a breakout.
Within 3 hours of his waking, someone came into his room. He quickly put his arms around his back and lay on the ground so that he could not see the ripped ropes. The tall, black, dog that had come in did not seem to notice. Either that or he just didn't care. He set down a plate of food that looked actually quite appetizing. Fresh cooked fish, a baked potato, and a bowl of some strange brown liquid. "Here you go." said the man "If you behave well, the food will stay good, if you misbehave the food will go down in quality, so will you're life in general." with that he turned to leave. He stopped right at the door and turned around. "Oh, by the way, the liquid is cola" With that he left. Herman began to dig into the food as though he was a man possessed. Here began his life in solitude. If only it stayed that good for a long time.
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The first breakout attempt
Three weeks after that.
Herman was now at full strength and seemed to not have garnered any unwanted mental side effects of being detained. He had a plan already formulated for his escape. First, cut the ropes on his feet with his claws, he had not done this before because they would be much harder to hide than the arms. Second, burst through the outside wall, he had deduced which one was on the out side by knocking on each, two knocked back and the other had the door way to the hall, which meant that either this wall was an outside wall, or he was not located on the perimeter of the building. Third, RUN LIKE HELL, this step was self explanatory.
Well, now that he had a plan, it was time for him to ******** it up royally.
He cut himself out of the foot ropes perfectly fine. He then focused on the wall, it was but simple drywall, it would be as nothing to destroy. He did not see the one flaw in his plan though.... no one in their right mind would put down drywall as a perimeter wall, but he was desperate and conveniently denied this fact. So he hauled off and beat a great hole in the wall with a quick flurry of punches and claws. He was horrified to see that on the other side was not sunshine and warm forest air... but what looked like a meeting of all the higher ups of this terrorist group that had captured him. They all looked on in shock; the men looked weak, as though they had never fought once in their life. A Tall, scraggly cat, A short stubbly beaver, a shifty looking weasel with one glass eye, and a semi-healthy looking blue dragon, these were the members of this group that was looking to him now. He realized then that if he could not escape back home, he could at least help them out as much as possible by causing some internal chaos. It was then that the blue dragon, the only being there that could've possibly taken Herman, even if he was young and inexperienced, lunged at him. Without thinking Herman stabbed his claws out in a defensive gesture whilst his other arm flew up over his face. "CRAAAAAAAAAAHHHWWWWWlllctgh!!!!" was as close to what the man cried out as is possible to explain in text. The claws had stabbed him in 4 places, the forehead, the nose, the lower jaw, and the jugular. He was frozen in midair, his face a contorted and horrible mixture of fear, pain, and terror. Herman was as frozen as the dead man now impaled on his claws... not out of fear of what the others would do to him... but out of the horrific realization that he had just killed someone, he had ended a life, he had committed murder. One of the others, the cat probably, finally got up the nerve to speak. "GUAAARRRDDDDS!!!! HEEEEELLP!!!"
The guards came, Herman was still frozen stiff, the blue dragon still impaled on his long claws. The guards picked him up and hauled him to a maximum security room. He did not move in the slightest as they hauled him away, he was still contemplating what he had done.
Murder.
It was such a wild concept to the young boy. Going away... and never coming back... ever. Of course it wasn't like he had killed some one close to him... or even anyone he knew. It was not sadness he felt. Just shock. He never knew he was capable of such acts. They were now shackling him to the wall and putting a mask over him so he could not open his mouth. Of course he had not meant to do it, the blue one charged... he flinched.... and the blue one impaled himself on Herman's claws. '... yes, that's all there was too it. Not my fault, His. Not my fault, his.' he repeated this mantra as he slowly fell asleep against the wall he was now shakled to.
The Second Escape Attempt
After that Herman was left in his cell to rot. Apparently the guy he offed, the blue dragon, was the head honcho of the whole revolutionary movement. He tried to tell them the death was the other guy’s fault… but of course they did not listen. He was given just enough food to sustain his life and nothing more. He was beaten and tortured in the most horrendous ways known to man. 400 lashes with a Cat-o’- nine- tails. Every week this little sadistic woman would put a single cut on him, then the next week she would reopen the cut and add another, then the next week reopen both cuts and at another.. and so it went on for years and years.
So now it is 20 years later, and the being once known as Herman Li is now a shell of his former self. All that is left now is the name and he only remembers that from the woman that cuts him every week repeating it too him, “hello Herman” she’d say. And, if he had enough moisture to spare, he’d attempt to spit on her. Now he actually smiled through it. The whole time she reopened her 20 years worth of cuts, trying her damnedest to make him scream, he just wouldn’t do it. Somewhere along the line his body began to forget what pain felt like, probably because that was all he had for the last 20 years. Pain. But today… today he’d be happy. Today was a day of great jubilation for the great red one. Having been sleeping most of his time, he really had much more strength left in his body than most would give him credit for. And this time he had a plan that would work or he would die trying to make it work.
The woman came in. When she first saw her, he almost thought her some what attractive. A mostly orange calico cat, she was quite a looker back in her day. But now, 20 years later…. She was an old decrepit, surly hag. When she approached him she actually skipped the introductions and got right to work. He pulled the chain that was holding him up out of the wall, and bashed the woman in the face.
The little known fact about chains embedded in walls is that after 20 years of struggling against them… you’re going to get some form of result.
The woman hit the floor. He didn’t know wether or not she was dead or not, all he knew was that he had to get out of this dump, there were cameras all over his room. The only thing that made this point in time any better than any other was that the old hag usually left the door to his cell open… and she did this time too.
He took the knife of hers and looked at it. He was planning on using it as a weapon against the guards… but they had guns and his claws were now all 20 times more effective than the time he killed that blue b*****d. But they would serve a purpose. He looked to the hag and then at the blade and back to the hag again. He smiled for the first time in 20 years.
For the sake of retaining some small shred of tastefulness I will not tell you what exactly Herman did to the poor old lady. I will only tell you that justice was poetically served.
He looked down at the mutilated body of his endless torturer satisfied. He was surprised at himself at how much he loved the thrill of destroying her totally. It was like some lost opiate that could ease his endless sorrows.
He stalked through the halls brutally murdering all those he crossed, liking each one more than the last. He made sure not to let any of his victims scream. It seemed no one was watching the security camera’s in his room. Why would they anyway? He was 20 year old news. He was at what looked to be a set of large steel double doors…. Where had he seen these before? Where? Then it clicked, he had last seen them from the…. the…. he ran out the doors as fast as he could, sadly there were people out there waiting for him…. People he would have to kill.
He faced a diverse team of people. A male white bat that was hovering up in the air swinging around two flails. A Rabbit girl with a long-handled double-bladed axe. A massive black bear with a single double-barreled shotgun, and claws that they almost matched his own. A small lithe little snake woman that had no weapons at all. He learned afterwards that they were the revolutions most skilled warriors. The Revolution Death Squad.
The bear started things off by shooting off both barrels towards the great red demon. His wings, which were the only things that really weren’t exhausted at all during the 20 years by the way, burst into action right then, blasting him up into the air. A little bit of the scatter hit his body, but did miraculously very little damage to him. As he was up in the air, he looked down on the other members of the Squad and smirked, turning to the muscular male bad he brought up his hands and twitched his fingers forward in a ‘bring it on’ kind of gesture. All things considered, he had no real chance of beating the squad. Honestly. His mission was suicide. The bat charged toward him and swung one flail toward his head. Herman leaned back and dodged this blunt force head trauma, countering with a great headbutt to the bat’s nose. The winged mammal attempted to grip his nose in pain, but was then reminded that he had two spiked flails. As his arm flew up the iron ball whipped around and smashed him in the back of the head, he fell to the ground unconscious.
Knowing that this was going to end badly even with one member out of the picture, Herman let loose a great torrent of flame from his gullet, and, without looking to see their faces twisted and contorted with pain and suffering like he would have wanted, he flew away and toward the township he once called home.
The Glorious Return
He neared the town he once called home, thetown of Wyred. He decended down into the throngs of cheering people, they were all obviously delighted that he was home. But their was one question on his mind… why had they not come for him? This was never to be answered. He killed half the villiage that night, in their sleep. The massacre did not seem to fit the Dragon’s taste, He more liked to take his time with his enemies. Get to know them, that made the death of the hag all the more wonderful for him. But he continued the fight, continued to kill the people all through the night…. But sadly… all good things come to an end.
Someone fought back.
Oh no, he killed the pesky little hedgehog…. But he lived just long enough to scream out for help. People came rolling in, like sheep to the slaughter. He killed many of them before they got through the door…. Then they brought out the guns…. He split. Running as fast as he possibly could then blasting up into the air, he flew up and away, they still shot at him, one blast hit his wing, he spiraled downward into the forest surrounding the village.
He sat, leaning up against a large ancient oak, cackling like a madman. Hell, he WAS a madman. He had killed half of his village and liked it. And this was just the beginning.
From then till present
The great village slaughter did not end in Herman’s demise… oh no. The people gave up looking for him within minutes out of a mixture of fear, panic, and sadness.
He has since made his way across the country side, stalking people, becoming their best friends, then brutally murdering them in broad daylight.
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