Ages of Despair Finger Gateway

Wed Jul 18 14:19:45 2018

King Zerohawk the Defiling One
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Level: 101                       Gender: Male 
Race:  Demon                     Align:  Evil
Last on: 1553 days 17 hours 33 minutes and 38 seconds ago
He has no unread mail.
His best kill is A large scarlet hermit crab - 463,762 exp
His best party kill is Lochrel the lesser demon lord - 1,790,203 exp
Arch-Foe: Kraal the bouncer - 11,508,016 exp
He has a homepage at steveandmac.comicgenesis.com
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Plan:
YOU MUST BE SWIFT AS A COURSING RIVER, WITH ALL THE FORCE OF A GREAT TYPHOON





BACKGROUND:

An amnesiac, his first memory, the memory that haunted him eternally was this. He stood tall, eyes opening as if he had woken from a dream, corpses of people, gargoyle and otherwise laid in his wake. He felt a great weight being lifted at first, but as he took in his surroundings, agony and darkness consumed him, and he felt the taint of evil touch his spirit, force him into it's depths. Forsaken, alone, miserable, this solemn warrior made his way across the land, always wandering. A tiny one-handed sword was his only companion, and that companion thirsted for blood. Most that encountered him would suffer a bloody demise. Some escaped him, although they were always a limb short. With each passing day of wandering, he could feel evil consume more of him, twisting his mind. None were against him, but he didn't focus on that for long, realizing the more blunt fact that none were with him. It was around the time that this Warrior began to seethe with hatred and bloodlust, that he discovered Loriah. Shortly after he would find the Death Knights, and he would embrace the teachings of Morchan. When he was finally allowed to have Maendon summon a blade for him, a two-handed was what he preferred. Oh how he reveled in the blades power, magnificense, the very aura of death that radiated about it... his "Death Blade" He knew what his fate was, to deliver Death unto all living things.

Having what he sought, he would master his training in his wandering, until he craved more power yet. The logical choice then would be to seek the training of a powerful pack of Warriors, the Barbarians. Whom he had found in his relentless following. It was there that he would begin to increase his power, but he could not stay there after each training session, for he craved the wilds far too much. It was the curse of a wanderer, to sleep in the woods, and prefer darkness to companionship. Should one approach him closely, however, there was certainly some unidentifiable quality within him. Perhaps... some kindness, or a wish for a redemption that will never come, for he had in his opinion, shed too much blood.


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