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Here is where you're meant to introduce your character. It is strongly recommended that you have one, prior to posting, and strictly required if you are not playing your avatar. You can tell us as much or as little as you like, but do try to give us the basics.

Name: Anne Marie Blackwell
Race: German-American Human ; Devil of Lust
Gender: Female
Age: Unknown, Appearing to be 18
height: 5'9"
weight: 135
Appearance:



Born a mage, Anne Marie had always had a love for the world of devils, which she traveled to often to train her powers. Approached by a devil of lust in her teen years, Anne stuck a deal with the devil to become more powerful in exchange for supplying souls. The devil possessed her as to both see to it that she would harvest souls and to follow it's side of the bargain.
Soon after the devil had possessed her, she had noticed changes in herself. The devil could not possess her fully, due to the shear willpower and determination of Anne. However, the devil would often take control of her physically, changing her body. She no longer aged and had developed leathery flightless wings, horns, and a whip-like tail. Her eyes had changed permanently to a bright orange glow that people often found to be unnerving. As time went on, the changes in her were nothing short of amazing. The devil would often become fully physically present, inducing more darkness, danger, lust, and recklessness into her. However, it would also recede, allowing no physical manifestations of itself other than her now hauntingly mesmerizing, glowing eyes. While retaining her humanity and her personality, the devil had also induced a deep darkness within her. The two had become one, the devil could not escape from her body and she could not cleanse herself. It soon became much less of two separate entities living in one body and more of a corruption. They were bound to each other, with the only escape being death.

A scholar by choice, and a lover by nature. Anne is a beautiful, seductive woman. Her body is tone and curvy, and she can often be seen wearing something to show it off. Romantic as well as poetic, she fells the hearts of men as well as women. She is a confident woman, and a very talented and powerful mage. She consistently finds herself buried in books in an effort to learn more magic, and has near mastered dark magic and fire spells. She can also be found practicing alchemy, and studying enchanted and magical artifacts.

Due to the devil within her, Anne will stop at nothing to get what she wants. She prefers peaceful methods, deceiving, and tempting people into doing her bidding. Though, if need be, she is a skilled fighter; swift, calculating, and strong.

Queenie, AKA QueeniePMonkey, was born on the mountainside in a small (no pun intended) Dwarf village. Contrary to her family, (3 brothers, all metal smiths, following in the trade of her father, and her mother, a stern, battle-tested house-wife and rearer of children) Queenie had no interest in preparing for war, forging, or mining. Instead, she was scholarly, interested in reading what few tomes were available to her. When a traveling healer rested in her village one day, Queenie learned what she wanted to do with her life.

It took some convincing, but after several years, her family finally relented, and, at the tender age of 40, Queenie was allowed out in to the world to find her destiny.

Her long black hair typically falls unchecked down her back and around her face were it frames her stunningly blue eyes. Dark, almost ash black, skin makes it easy for her to be over looked. She stands at 4 foot 6, and her frame is thick, but not un-womanly. Typically she can be found wearing a satchel that carries various herbs and tomes inside, a backpack with her camping equipment, thick leather boots for travel, and usually a lot of white, though sometimes she dons black and blue garb for fancier occasions.

Shaymer looks to be about forty years old but his eyes say he is older. While his voice may rumble quietly, he is friendly and laughs heartily.
He seems to be human. The claws on his hands look retractable. When he speaks, he speaks with a scottish, irish, welsh accent. When asked about his past, he merely laughs and says it is of no import.
Shay stands about 5' 7" and weighs around 160 pounds. His black eyes seem to glow red when agitated.
He is the soul of courtesy and calls you by good lady or good sir unless asked not to. The air around him seems warmer for some reason.

Morgan of Blades, or Lady Mourn, as she sometimes prefers to be called, stands 5'4" tall and is thin, with a slight athletic tone, appealing curves, and an hourglass figure. Her marble-white skin is left largely exposed to all who look upon her, only somewhat obscured by the few garments she wears.
She is most commonly encountered wearing low-cut black panties, with a black leather belt resting over it, and a pair of thigh-high leather boots that stretch beyond her toes and curl, with a single bat-like wing floating in midair beside each ankle. In lieu of a top, she wears armor of blackened steel plates with bone-like projections, that covers her arms and shoulders, and a matching leather breastplate that covers only just enough of her chest to meet the minimum standards of a lax dress code. This armor covers only slightly more than the top half of her average-sized breasts, leaving the bottoms exposed. When not engaged in combat, she frequently eschews the steel plates, retaining the breastplate; or shedding it all in favor of a black leather corset or bustier, or a loose-fitting cotton top.
Her blood-red hair hangs roughly eight inches in length, and is commonly seen in some state of dishevelment, with stray strands or tufts poking out this way and that. She often wears an ornament of black lace and mesh tied into her hair, shaped to look like bat wings or spiderwebs, complete with a single string that hangs low, knotted at the end to hold a glass bead with eight strings projecting around it, giving the look of a dangling spider.
Thick, long eyelashes frame her large, unusual eyes. Her vertically-standing ovoid pupils rest upon blood-red irises, all of which caps lighter red sclera. A solid black tattoo darkens the top half of her face like a mask; from halfway down the bridge of her slightly upturned nose, ascending right up to her hairline to border the small black horns that sprout up above her temples, and back to cut off just above her pointed ears. Full lips, often stained with fresh or dried blood, part to reveal a mouth full of triangular, shark-like teeth in a frequent grin.
She is never seen without a black lace choker that holds a small skull over her throat; and a well-worn, wide-bladed machete, usually plastered with gore from her last battle. In addition, it is rare to find her without a dismembered extremity of some creature (humanoid or otherwise), the blood of which is oftentimes smeared all over her, though it's usually already dried by time she returns to the guildhouse with a fresh acquisition. Arms are her favorite, for ease of portability, and their potential to provide amusement.
Morgan is foul-tempered, impetuous, reckless, and rather blunt. She sees no point in concealing... much of anything, really; from the meaning of her words, to her emotions, even her body (as her choice in dress makes evident). She wasn't taught of the nuances of social interaction until much later than other children, thus it holds only a tenuous grip on her behavior. She finds that speaking her mind, especially when speaking of something another doesn't want to hear, most often leads to having "fun", whether it be combat, or simply teasing her companion (about the only time she isn't as forthcoming as she might be).
Though she hadn't had anybody to teach her the ways of combat, she learned quite a bit by watching numerous butcherings at the hands of the woman responsible for destroying her home. She's no great warrior, especially when a fight just begins. But she throws herself headlong into each fray, regardless, which often allows her opponent to gain the upper hand. At first, anyway. Once blood is spilled or her anger rises (often both), fury and bloodlust soon lend greater strength and swiftness to her strikes, and dulls the sting of wounds received; more often than not allowing her to turn the tables on her foe.

I'll expand on this a bit, and put up a backstory sometime soon. Not sure whether I'll just update this, or put it here. Whichever I do, there'll be an edit here, so keep an eye out if you care to.