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Survival - 12 Wins!

Brutal - 1 Fatalities

AFFILIATION

Alignment: Hero

Team: Solo Hero

VITAL STATS

Strength: Weak

Agility: Standard

Mind: Superior

Body: Standard

RECORD

Personal Wins: 12

Personal Losses: 1

MediaMan

It was Bakunin who said that if there were a God, it would be necessary to overthrow Him. It never fails. Every time I'm about to give up on these damned humans, one of them just has to get up and say something like that. Damn them. If it weren't for them, I'd still be an angel, plucking my harp, polishing my wings and waiting when Yahweh will come around and ask me to do something for him, begging him to validate my existence. I suppose, then, that the humans can't be all bad. After all, if they were, do you think I'd be fighting the entire Host of Heaven for their sake? They're murderers, thieves, tramps and whores. And they're such stupid creatures too. Blindly following around anyone with the balls to declare he's in charge. As if what he said gave the claim any legitimacy. They so terrible things to each other and to themselves. I've seen little girls with all their limbs chopped off and left to crawl home. They're a race of monsters. So why can't I just leave them alone then? Why can't I just march into Lucifer's office, turn in my wings and tell him "I'm through! I'm sick of crucifying myself for these people! I'm sick of fighting to save people to won't even save themselves! I'm sick of it all!" It wouldn't be that tough, after all. It certainly wouldn't be lying. And, I mean, Lucifer's got more important things to worry about than trying to retain one little demon like me, even one that's been with The Cause since the beginning. He's the head honcho, the father of the Revolution and he's got to worry about everything from making sure the angels don't mess with us (which they do) to figuring out how we can mess with the angels (which we do). He's got to orchestrate a way to overthrow all frickin' creation without becoming the controlling, hypocritical, paranoid prick that Yahweh did. Keeping me around? Not his highest priority. The prick. If it's so easy to leave, why am I still here? Tons of other demons have left. Why shouldn't I join them? I won't lie and say I've been tempted many times. But then we come back to Bakunin. I'm all ready to convince myself that humanity's screwed, that Yahweh's won and Lucifer may as well execute himself and save Gabriel the trouble... And then some human comes along and spouts off something profound, something that makes me think that maybe they're not all dumb, that maybe some of them do know what's going on, that maybe there is some hope for the talking apes yet. Not a lot. Barely even detectable among all the other stupid shit the humans say and do. But some. It's there and you can taste it. Of course, not even a century later they all up and die but that's life. I fight for that little, tiny glimmer of hope in the bucket of shit called humanity. And they hate me. They all hate me and want to kill me, isn't that rich? They send their holy warriors, their legendary heroes, their champions of light to find us and kill us because, well, that's what Yahweh wants them all to do. I try to be tolerant, I try to be calm. Damn I'm calm. After all, they don't know what they're really doing. They're just fighting for what they think is right even if all they're doing is perpetuating the slavery of their own race by an angry God. I try to be understanding. I tell myself, it's awfully tempting to just latch on to some belief system that the Light is good and the Darkness is bad and the Light must always defeat the Darkness. It's quick, it's easy. People are uncomfortable with uncertainty. And why the hell shouldn't they? They've been raised since they first evolved to be obedient little cattle. For them, liberty is just as paralyzing as fascism. Every time some Legendary Hero pledges to wipe the demon taint from the face of their planet, I tell myself this in the hopes I'll calm down and remember that those kinds of people are the exact reason I'm fighting for them. It never works. I'm only demon, I get pissed like everyone else and quite frankly if someone's so far gone that they start drawing lines between "What I believe" and "What needs to die" then who can blame me for the occasional disembowelment? Ungrateful bastards, serves 'em right. Here I am, fighting for their freedom, fighting against the tyranny of predetermination, of commandments, of divine retribution and they've got nothing better to do than swing around some magical phallic symbol and talk like they work at a Renaissance fair. A part of me thinks that once they're free from Yahweh's influence they'll smarten up and be decent human beings. Every other part of me laughs so hard they become desperately in need of an underwear change. Still, if I thought humans needed to be herded like sheep to protect them from themselves, I'd still be in the Silver City. They may be psychotic, perverted bastards, but they're psychotic perverted bastards we need to free. Because, hell, not even psychotic, perverted bastards deserve the fate the Creator's given this sorry lot. They think they're free, but they're not. That's the saddest thing about them, the thing that tears at my heart strings. If they were really free, God wouldn't need a host of angels to back Him up. If they really loved Him because they loved Him, He wouldn't need a private torture dimension for people who didn't. That isn't love freely given. If people are only doing something because they're afraid of getting punished, that's not freedom - that's terror and oppression, the trademark of the despot. That's why I still fight. In the beginning, Lucifer saw what was being done to humanity and decided he couldn't sit back and let it happen. Neither could I. I raise my fist to Heaven against oppression and do what I can to counteract the Host. Because I am me. And because I am alive.

I knew his type. Six feet tall, muscles upon muscles upon muscles. Being in his presence was like drinking whole milk - so wholesome it made you feel a little sick. "Demon, you shall not tempt me with your poison words! You have ruined too many lives! Too many scions of the Light have fallen before you! Have at thee!" He's strong. I was knocked back more than a few feet, crashing through a wall. Ouch. I got up. These guys get so damn touchy when you start questioning their faith. I was sitting in a bar, minding my own damn business... Well, that's not entirely true, I guess. I was setting up some anti-angelic wards around the place, weakening the Light influence around my general area. But, hell, that was no real excuse to attack me entirely unprovoked. Things weren't so bad at first. He just told me leave this place and never return. Now, all I did was give him a sideways smile and tell him that I think that sort of order is up to the owner of this fine establishment, don't you think? And that I was a good customer and always paid my tab. He told me... No, wait. He ORDERED me to cease and desist and pray to my creator for forgiveness. I'm sorry, it wasn't the smartest thing to do, but I just couldn't stop laughing. Between gasps, I shouted that I'd sooner let that Paladin screw me up the ass, and given how ugly he was, it said quite a lot. Well, then the craziness with the magical holy sword started. "Listen, I really don't want to fight you." Could my voice have been any more blase? Don't think so. Dodge. Dodge. Jump. "You're making a huge mistake." Duck. Sway. Jump. The hero (not Hero, mind you, or else I'd have been calling for backup ASAP) just gave me the dirtiest look. "The only mistake here is letting you live one second longer than you must, demon!" These champions of light are so predictable. One overhead swing took care of my haircut needs for the time as I ducked just in time. "I am REALLY not in the mood for this." Sword in the arm. Ouch. My eyes glowed red. A whirl of motion and the Paladin was on the floor, gasping for breath. My voice hissed from between my teeth. "Enough. I can kill you right now if I want to. It would be just so easy to reach into your mouth and yank out your testicles from the inside. I warned you that I will NOT take shit from the likes of you. I am NOT afraid of you. You're pathetic. Your code, your Cause, your Light. When was the last time your mind was truly yours?" I slash open his cheek and stepped away from him. "You caught me in a good mood. Thank your effing God for that." That was about the time everyone in the bar got up and start advancing towards me. I could just picture their mental processes. Paragon of virtue... Ruthless demon... Paragon of virtue... Ruthless demon... Paragon of Virtue! See if I ever drink there again. God, I hate people more than anything. Every step forward I take, the angels take me two steps back. I keep going, though. I guess I'm stupid like that.

"Gifts" of the Infernal

     Natural Weaponry: Supreme

Angels. I can't stand them. People say to me, when I tell them of this not to surprising antipathy, "Well, aren't you pretty much an angel too? I mean, you used to be one, but then you fell. But the fact that you fell is about all that separates you from the angels, right?" Humans. It's when they say things like this that make me very tempted to reneg my promise to protect and work towards their freedom, because you can tell that if anyone would say something as stupid as this when they're slaves... When they're free, they're going to be REALLY obnoxious. It when they say things like that that my demon blood begins to boil even more (demon blood already is very hot, so imagine what it's like then) and I start taking deep, deep breaths, gripping the table trying not to throttle the punk who is still going on and on about how the difference between the angels and demons is nothing but a load of crap and how it's all our own creation and just filling the air with his sheer, blatant ignorance... I don't notice until he's looking at me like I'm about to rip his head off and pop it in my mouth like popcorn (which is kinda true) that my demonic influence is starting to manifest, which includes claws made of iron, teeth made of adamant and a three foot long tongue that slices through flesh like a hot knife through a book of bad cliches. "Thorry." I say as I withdraw my traits. Angels and demons the same? The nerve. The very ACT of rebelling against your Creator negates your status as an angel. To be an angel is to comply without question. I used to be one, unfortunately. But looking down at my slowly withdrawing claws tell me those days are long over.

Black Wings

     Flight: Supreme

I remember the beginning. When Lucifer gathered all the angels in the Host of like mind to his cause. He was a lot more peaceful in the beginning. Reform, not Revolution was his motto. He gave very stirring speeches in the square in Heaven. It wasn't until Michael and his White-Shirts broke up the forth rally in a row that Lucifer began to really seeth, before he began to get really, really bitter. When the first angels were being slaughtered in retribution for their sedition, that was when Lucifer got really, really pissed off. The thing they don't tell you about the War in Heaven was that most of it was fought in the air. Streaks of silver crossed with streaks of gold, concluding in a rain of red over the fertile fields of Heaven, sword meeting sword, fire meeting fire in a battle it seemed no one could win. Slowly but surely, though, we were being pushed out. Michael tore through our ranks like we were tissue paper and all who tried to attack him were immediately assaulted by Raphael and Israefel. We were losing ground, or, rather, losing air. But we made sure that the Host paid in blood for every inch they took. I personally wet my wings in the blood of Israefel before Michael lit me on fire with his flaming sword. Then... We fell. No. We Fell, further than anyone can imagine. Once we landed, we knew what we needed to do. A big misconception is that our wings were removed from us when we Fell. Some had theirs torn off during the battle, but most of us had kept them. They changed, this is certain. Massive and black, like a raven's. But they are still there and they still work. From above, I can still survey my work. From above, I can still await the day I face Michael once more on the field of battle.

Terrible Glory

     Emotion Control: Supreme

• Auto-Hit Attack
• Area Affect

"Now, girl, beg for your life before I spill it all over the stone steps!" The sword was black as jet and so big it was obviously compensating for something. "Someone help me! Please!" The sword moved like the night and knicked the girl's leg, her dress turning red from the calf up. "Beg me to spare you. Crawl like the whore you are." Her tears streaked down her face as she struggled to get a sentence out without stuttering, without sobbing. A vicious kick to the ribs didn't help matters. "I said BEG! DO IT!" She choked back a sob. "P-p-p-please... D-d-d-don't... K-k-k-k..." The man nodded. "K-k-k-k-k... Kiiiii..." His eyes were like iron, like fire. "Worthless girl, can't even properly grovel! Now you die." Behind him, a throat cleared. "Are you quite done?" I stood blase. "Your lot make me sick. You think this is what we want? You're being all dark and evil, aren't you? You're being all terrible and powerful, slaying helpless women in the dark, aren't you? You're nothing! You're pathetic! You're a twisted mockery of the darkness! YOU give US a bad name!" He swung. I simply sidestepped and kicked the man in the back, sending him flying. "I'm working to free you people and this is what you do to each other. I do not delight in this murder you've been perpetuating each night. I've been tracking you. Investigating you. You predators make your victims slaves to fear. All you want is to be worshipped. You're the worst kind of evil: the evil bred from insecurity. From smallness. Just like Yahweh's bunch. Disgusting. You're trying way too hard and just coming off as pathetic to the people you probably want to impress the most." It was then that I removed my mortal seaming. Angels are beautiful, glorious to behold. Too glorious. The more powerful ones can cow many with their sheer presence, the sheer power of their glory. As said before, quite emphatically, I am not an angel. Demons are terrible, frightening things and when one reveals THEIR glory, the stars themselves extinguish in their terror. It is glory, much like an angel's. But it is a dark and terrible glory. The glory of a demon. I still look the same. But, to those looking upon me, I am NOT the same. The man collapses onto his knees before his forehead grinds against the cobblestones. He is sobbing like a baby. I look back. So is she. I leave.

Wrath

     Eldrich Blast: Supreme

• Ranged Attack Only
• Area Affect
• Multi-Attacks

I am above their eye. I am above the sky. I touch the clouds and taste their bounty. Below me is Atlantis. An Atlantis, at least. There are thousands of them across the planes, existing in nearly all times. This was the first, predating even humanity itself, which is odd since it's full of humans. Still, my orders aren't to think. They're to destroy. I am still an angel. My Fall has yet to come. I look down and I can... SEE... Them... HEAR... SMELL... Almost touch them. People are milling through the streets, discussing philosophy, politics, art, technology. Children play in the streets. Women sing to themselves in the gardens. It is a beautiful city and I can't help but admire it. It's a paradise of marble and gold and pearl and ivory. It is Atlantis and it is the perfect city. Perfect except in one respect. The people are free. Yahweh doesn't know how they did it, perhaps through arcane magics and perhaps through fantastic technology, but the people of Atlantis managed to divorce themselves from the web of destiny. There was no more grand plan for the Atlanteans, save that which the Atlanteans could create for themselves. For this, I was charged with destroying them. My hands crackled with energy. From high above, I was to rain down death. My power would shatter the stone, kill all who stood in its path, blight crops, destroy buildings. Everyone would die. I looked down. A child picked a flower. A dog came and licked her face. I closed my eyes and fired. It was then that I realized He has made a murderer of me. And I did nothing. I could do nothing. I stoll loved Yahweh. And this disturbed me greatly. I am now a demon, millinea later and I still hold the terrible power that sunk Atlantis. I use it for much better ends now.

Infernal Form

     Energy Body: Ultimate

A kick in the chest shattered a rib or two. Pity they were mine. I coughed out blood and rolled along the floor. It's not that I wasn't used to taking punishment. It's just that I wasn't used to taking punishment from the Seraphim. I guess I should be flattered. After all, they only send these guys out against the really big threats. A blow across the back with a holy whip says to me "Welcome to the big times, Reluctorel. Enjoy your beating." I smiled. I was bruised, battered, burned and bleeding (notice all the words for abuse start with 'b') and yet I still smiled. I still had one last ace up my sleeve and I was just waiting for an opportunity like this to use it. I rose from the ground, hearing my bones crack and lock into place, feeling every ounce of pain attached to such an action. "You been scourged by the righteous fires of Heaven and yet still you rise for more? Reluctorel, I heard you were a most cunning demon. One would think that someone of your intelligence would have the common sense to stay down." That was when Israefel hit the floor and I rose, black wings, horns, claws and all. My demonic traits weren't bits of demon put here and there on a human form anymore. Jet-black skin hung tightly onto an eighteen-foot tall frame and my grin revealed row upon row of razor sharp teeth. One pair of arms grabbed the angel while the second pair began to pummel him. "Israefel, Yahweh must be getting pretty stupid in his old age to send you to me. I tore you a new one in the War, and I'll send you limping back to the Silver City again. I guess Michael was too busy, because he would have beaten me as surely as I've beaten you." Flames trickles off my skin like sweat beading off a brow. The chains around my waist rattled. In one motion, I bit the angel in half and spit it on the floor. Both halves crawled away into the night. I resumed my mortal form and walked away whistling.