Storm Vhirahn

Age: looks 19, could be thirty.
Height: 5'10"
Weight: 140lbs
Race: Gaia Non-Native Half elf

Battle Raged accross the Isle, demons surging forth in droves.
Heavy and unyeilding as the torrential tropical rainstorm that poured down on the few left outside the temple.
Storm, Along with Gwarn and a few others, held the temple steps as the last were brought in.
The doors had to be shut before they could break off and take shelter.
He was the son of a dark god, one fabled for it's pleasure in the death of all living things about it.
Storm had fought the impulses in his tainted blood since his first day upon this realm.
Fitting that in this last, he would give in to them. His body bore a thousand wounds, harmor town from his skin, skin from flesh at the demon's claws.
He couldn't feel the teeth in his flesh. He simply burned in the cold rain.
His will bore strength enough for his torn body, and he continued to fight into the horde.
He would protect the Order, He would serve the Overseer. it was his Oath.
He would hold the Life of the highpriestess as his highest vow.
But, even in his fervor, A ragged dark blade peirced his mind.
Lorika had Fallen. His oath to her, his bonds, and the last wall of sanity in this nightmare of blood, was lost.
Blue flame flowed from where his eyes had been, and a terrible wolfish smile fell across his face.
Storm was taken into the slayer, his nightmare's unleashed upon the world.
His turn to Bite.
His turn to Claw.
His turn to gnash and pummel and indiscriminately maim in every direction.
Gwarn and the few ordonian fighters left outside the temple walls were further pressed as Storm's malevolent gaze turned from the demons, to the doors.
And it was so, That as the Guardian came to The temple form the mirror realm, that so did Storm's other appear.
Harsh sunlight pierced the ever enraged heavens, bearing with it The Guardian's Faithful.
His Armor gleamed in the shinging rays, And those who witnessed said silver wings bore the heavenly knight into battle with the titanic slayer amidst the demonic onslaught.
They said not a single drop of blood spattered against his gleaming armor, and the blade he swung had been blessed as to pierce the souls of the demons they fought.
Even if not the whole truth of the tale, his sword did fall the bestial slayer. And the darkness faded from his dieing body, leaving Storm to his Soldier's death
It was calm then, in his last moments. the fires and screams were silent and gone. His fear and anger left him. Looking into the face of his mirror, somehow he understood.
words were not but wracking coughs, sputtering blood from his mouth. Clasping the small silver pendant he wore, he tore it from his neck and placed it in the hands of his killer.
Storm stood then, the wind and sun peircing the stormclouds to bring the days last light upon this dark day.
The sea's call was the only sound left...

Personality:

Storm grew up on the streets, and new of things that happened there and in dark alleys growing up.
his childhood was stripped from him by the conditions he faced as a youth, and he was never one to back down to those who'd dominate others by force.
But at the turn of his youth, freedom was grasped, and it was like a dark veil had been lifted.
A cynic and a Charmer, Storm although having his own views, won't express them truthfully until asked. Even then he can be vage in response.
But he makes up points for flattery, good wit, and his ability to lead.


Powers
Sword fighting: Expert
Evocation: Adept

SkySword: As a griffin Knight in his homeland, his training forced him to be exceptionally quick with his sword and light on his feet. He has very little trouble battling over hard terrain, and can effectively while in midair and using footing unavailable to slower opponents.

Lightbreech: A favored of the Gaurdian, Storm can all upon his evocation power to create holy light that burns the skin of fell creatures, and can blind them. More effort is required to continue it's light however, and the effects can be draining if sustained too long.

Field Surgeon's Touch: Albeit roughly, Storm is able to patch most wounds not too grievous with relative ease. Straight stitches and Anesthetic are optional, however.

Silvertongue: Storm has an uncanny ability to turn conversations in the directs he wants; most often glinting information from others they'd not easily part with or to convey his meaning in a fluent manner capable of changing the audiences viewpoint if necessary.