This dagger, only measures about two feet from the tip of the blade to the tip of the hilt. The blade, being forged at the same time as Scrios' main sword, possesses the same qualities as its brother weapon. Its handle though was carved from the bone of Cyn' Raths forearm, which is all that was left of his Earthly body.
This armor originally consisted of a light chest plate carved from the skull of one of the monstrosities that call the Afterplane home. Using part of the skull had left the armor plate fairly light and its forger used tanned leather strips from the flesh of of other Demons, to tie it together. There is a pair of small bone plates to cover the back of the wearers hands, with small bone spikes jutting up irregularly from them, and they are tied to the wearers hand with more of these tanned leather strips. After a few big battles Scrios realized that he needed more protection from his armor and had its bone plates reinforced with Ciedium and Quicksilver alloys, and had padding installed on the inner lining.
Just a simple, large, staff made from the oak tree that contained Scrios' soul for centuries. Measuring 6½ feet in length, the Demon is hardly ever seen without it, nor is Reig hardly seen not perching upon it. The top of the large staff curls into a large knot, that has been said to be as hard as stone, and all along the length of it are large swirled markings.
Measuring about a foot wide at the base and slowly coming to a point at about 4½ feet long, this double edged sword has an unnaturally razor sharp edge and a foot long handle carved from the femur of a long dead foe, Cyn' Rath. This swords blade was forged from unknown metals and the dark magics of the 9th Circle of the Afterworld, and possesses a bluish hue that rolls along it, giving an icy appearance. It has an unnaturally razor sharp edge that leaves a festering wound in its victims, that will begin to spread if no care to it is given.
While not mercury, the Solaris Central Laboratory’s “Quicksilver Equipment” line is very reminiscent of that element. Transforming Ciedium metal into what is most commonly referred to as “liquid cie” is a difficult process that took decades of trial and error to perfect, but now it is available, for a price, to the general populous. Implants are placed under the skin that have the ability to secrete liquid Ciedium that is designed to flow and then harden in a predetermined fashion, making weapons or armors that are sleek and extremely lightweight. A Quicksilver Shield comes from the arm, covering the forearm and hand and then flowing outward to make a two-feet in diameter disk that can be used as a normal shield to deflect physical attacks. The implanted is not able to use his hand attached to his shield.
An ancient dragon that had been dead a long time, was returned to this plane of existence by Scrios the Reaper of Souls. With a head that measures roughly eight'across, measured to the base of his horns, and a pair of horns that stretch out five more feet, this dragon was a rather smaller one from its day. Forced under the command of the Demon Scrios, Baliarth glows with a bright green hue behind his eyes and within his ribcage, and when he goes to spit fire it erupts in a glorious jade blaze.
A large black raven, that long accompanied Scrios while he was stuck in a large oak for centuries. The two formed their bond after Scrios merged a small portion of himself with the bird one time and sent it out in search of a soul that he could overtake. Upon its return, without a body for him to control, Scrios relinquished control of the raven but it decided to stay and overtime became an omen to his presence. From their bond with one another, the raven has lived long beyond its possible lifespan and from his initial possession of it, it's right eye is nothing but an opaque orb that sits within its skull. This orb serves as a visual link to Scrios allowing him to see through the eye of the bird. All though it never fights in his battles, the bird does not leave the Demons side for long and will take to the sky when the threat approaches.
Appearing to be a simple large black cloak, this piece of clothing grants Scrios access to a hidden portal where in which all his items are stored. The portal is only large enough to pull his items out and can only be accessed by him.
As a being associated with decay, Scrios long ago developed an aura that would cause the living things around him to wither and die. All though it will not kill them, this aura can leave them in a very weakened state, and any armor or weapons they possess will quickly begin to corrode if they continue to remain in the Demons presence, forcing some warriors to engage him from a range that they may not be at all comfortable with. This ability is constantly active to a range of five feet. It deals 10% Magic Power damage.
Giving him his name, this ability allows Scrios to lash out at his victim’s very soul. He attacks their being, usually while either he is severely weakened or they are, by latching his self onto their body, bypassing all armor, and literally begins consuming their soul. This ability leeches 20% of victims health per round. Aura of Decay increases to 20% Magic Power damage and bypasses all resistances.
Using his vast knowledge of Necromancy, Scrios opens a portal to the Infernal Chasm within the Afterplane and unleashes a wave of undead creatures that relentlessly attack his victim or victims until either called off or they are themselves sent back to the Afterplane. All summoned undead creatures are basic fighter types. Scrios can create one creature up to 50% MP in strength or 20 creatures at 5% MP in strength.
When within the presence of weaker minds, or the dying, Scrios can invade his victims mind and unleash a torrent of images. These images can be either good in nature as if to soothe a dying comrade or they could be a horrible nightmare meant to torment the victim before death. The ability can also be used in battle to provide Scrios a momentary break from combat and allow him to dodge an attack. This is an instant cast ability that stuns victims for two rounds.
Summoning a rather large portion of his energy, Scrios creates a sixty foot diameter circle on the ground, centered on his opponent, of pure concentrated Shadow energy. The energy and effect of this spell, once it takes hold, begins quickly rotting the flesh of its victims, and any items that are not marked "Indestructible" become unusable until the end of the battle. When Scrios begins casting this ability, he becomes incapable of other attacks or dodging for the two rounds required to cast, as he becomes completely focused on summoning the Circle. After he has cast the spell, and for its three round duration, Scrios is only capable of basic attacks in order to keep the spell going and after the Circle has fallen, Scrios is typically out of energy, and still only capable of basic attacks. If the attacks he is receiving becomes too much for him to take, he can cancel this spell at anytime, and will not be able to cast it again. This attack is the culmination of his control over Shadow energy and is only usable once per battle, and is typically used as a last resort. This attack does 2x magic damage on first strike. It does 1.5x magic damage on second strike. Victims are stunned/suffer hallucinations for up to three rounds.
Long before he became an Demon, Scrios was known by another name, his real name, Aldriden. (All-dree-den)
Aldriden was a young boy that enjoyed spending time with Ofildren, his grandfather, learning about the world, and going with him into the forest to hunt or fish. On a few special trips, Aldriden and his grandfather would camp next to a small fire and lay under the stars and he would listen to the stories that Ofildren would tell about the Gods, and how their world came to be.
These times were more simple times, there were no Great Wars raging, there were families slowly coming together to form communities within the vast jungles. Their home was a small village along a riverbank, that he dreaded going to get water from. Every time he would get near the water’s edge, one of the larger boys would either shove him into the river, or lunge out from it, to scare him. But when he was with his grandpa, none of that mattered to him. None of the boys would bother him, they would barely even look at him, because they feared his grandpa, they feared his magic.
“Papaw, who is the oldest of all the gods?” He would ask, the stories that would come from asking that simple question, was always good ones.
“You want me to tell you that one again?” His grandpa would always say, followed up by a laugh, and then he would go into the long stories of how their world came to be, from the guiding hands of Dakon, Dakir, and Dakel. Then he would lead into the stories of how there were seven worlds in total, and the stories would go on, endlessly. And that was the one thing that Aldriden loved about it, they never ended. There was always another story that his grandpa knew of.
But everything changed when the storyteller was no longer around.
A few years had passed painfully by, and although Aldriden had always gone with his grandfather to hunt or fish, he never really learned the skill. The young boy was either too lost in thought or trying to get another story out of Ofildren. On the day that Ofildren died, Aldriden realized that he was truly alone. With nobody there to help his mother with the chores, it fell upon him to do more than collect the water. His mother relied on the warriors and elders of their village for food, and the looks that she would get from them drove Aldriden mad.
Relentlessly teased by the larger boys, and without his grandfather there to stop it, Aldriden grew to hate the village that he lived in. He only wanted to show them that even though he was small and weaker, he could still do great things, if they only gave him a chance. When it came time for the young boys to take their journey into the great jungles, to prove themselves men, Aldriden knew he was forbidden from joining them. Not only were the Elders against it, but so was his mother, and without his grandfather there, nobody argued on his behalf. Rebelling against the Elders and his mother, the young boy left the village on his own, and instead of following the others path into the woods, he decided to take a different one.
Venturing deep into the jungle, his confidence gradually began to fade away and he began to realize that he was lost, and quickly began panicking. Turning himself around in circles, Aldriden desperately tried to find the way he came, and not being able to remember what his grandfather had shown him about tracking, the only thing he could think of to guide himself by, was the stars. Quickly looking up towards the sky, he screamed out in anger when he saw nothing but tree canopies stretching out and intertwining with each other. After being lost for several hours, the young boy eventually found his way home, and once again was met with ridicule.
After being ridiculed for several more weeks, Aldriden grew colder than usual. His hate for the village continued to fester within him and was only outweighed by the longing to see his grandfather again. He knew that one day he would leave this village and never return, maybe he could learn to bring Ofildren back. He had heard of such things.
The next morning came, and knowing better than to abandon his chores, the young boy filled his water buckets, and this time he noticed that when the other boys jumped out of the river to scare him, he did not bother to flinch or move away. Most likely he was over their little games, Aldriden ignored what he thought was their snickering, and in that moment his left arm was brutally ripped from his body by the alligator the kids had pretended to be all those times before.
Aldriden ran to his hut, in shock, and grabbed a burning log from the fire pit. He had decided that if he was to lose an arm, they were going to pay for it. After turning one of the boys hut into a blaze, he fled into the jungle once more, and then later bled out. For the next ten years the little boy relived the torment he received from his village, their looks at his mother, the way they treated their family. All of it was an endless cycle that repeated every three days. He experienced his failed attempt at his Trial of Age, his mother disapproving, and then the teasing at the water front. He wouldn’t discover that he died in the jungle or created a large fire until the day came that the village tried to exorcise his spirit.
A failed exorcism, brought on by an inexperienced shaman, allowed the now vengeful spirit of Aldriden to possess the shamans body, and bring about the slaughter of his entire village. After exacting his revenge on all of those that tormented him in life and death, Aldriden again fled into the jungle and learned to control his new body. After meditating for days within the shamans body, Aldriden was approached by several spirits that were lingering in the jungles. From these spirits he learned that in order for him to be able to truly return to the living, he would have to become more powerful and in order to become more powerful, he would have to pass on into the Afterplane.
Upon arriving in the Afterplane, Aldriden was immediately greeted with the gray, bland, atmosphere. The spirits that had convinced him to pass on to the other side were there, waiting for him, but as soon as he acknowledged their presence, they too began to laugh at him. In a rage, the spirit of Aldriden swung out at the other spirits, and his form seemed to flow right through them. This quickly enraged the young spirit, but the others simply pointed towards the portal to the Great Beyond. “Through there, you will meet oblivion. It is said that it will take you straight to Noma. To be one with God.” The one that spoke, then turned towards a distant light. “There, you will find the Infernal Chasm. When you are TRULY ready to be strong and powerful, powerful enough to get back to the physical realm, find yourself in that place, and you will discover the means necessary.”
“Noma is not the one God.” Aldriden said as he immediately headed towards the Infernal Chasm.
Aldriden spent thousands of years venturing through the Afterplane, both as a spirit rising in power, and then eventually having his rage and energy converted into an Demonic form. Weak at first, Aldriden took the name of Scrios after slaughtering thousands of spirits over the course of a few months. In the beginning, Scrios was ruthless in his effort to gain power in order to come back to the living. He would do many unspeakable things while consuming his souls, but over the course of time though, the Demon had forgotten what was originally driving his efforts to learn true power over souls, not just brutal control.
After long enough time had passed, Scrios began learning how to use his Demonic energy to reanimate life, or imbue others with it, and after an unknown amount of time, he began to master this art.
Sitting in the shadows of a barely lit chamber, Scrios began to hear the mumblings of what sounded like an old man drifting into his mind. After a few moments of hearing this, the Demon rose from his throne and began searching for its source. As he ventured down a small corridor the mumbling grew louder and he slowly began to recognize the words. “Not this time.” the voice says in an old Solarian language. He continued searching through the corridors and the voice continued to grow in intensity. “I won't lose control of this one.” He heard the voice say.
Awaking on an alter, in front of an old man, Scrios rose to a seated position and sighed at the realization that he was stuck in a females body. Looking up at the Caster that summoned him, the Demon smirks as he begins to rise from the alter. “Why have you summoned me here?” He asked in an unnaturally deep voice. The old man looks her up and down, pleased that he has succeeded a second time in summoning a great Demon from beyond. “I am your Master, Cyn' Rath. I have summoned you here to do my bidding.” The young woman's eyes burned a bright green, as the Demon inside her raged.With his female body forced down into a submissive position, Scrios' mind suddenly went blank.
After a few weeks passed, Scrios had regained control of his body, and decided that he had finally had enough of this lesser being controlling his every move. Before leaving a small village he spotted a large oak tree, and gestured that maybe the old man should sit for a moment and rest himself. Cautious of the girls sudden actions, Cyn' Rath turned to the Demon and commanded him down. Fighting the commands of his master began to take its toll on the decayed body he was forced into, and as his powers grew, it began to escape the body of the girl and permeate the ground around them.
As a dark greenish brown glow began to engulf the master and the town around them, he heard the old man begin shouting in the same languages from before. Rising from the ground, Scrios looked to the world around them for the first time with his own eyes, and watched as everything dead and living started rotting away. Hovering beside the oak tree, the Demons booming voice echoed into the old mans mind. “It was foolish of you to try to contain me. Did you not learn anything from your first attempt?” As the old mans body began to wither, his mumbling became more direct, and the Demon felt himself being pulled into the oak tree. “IF I CANNOT CONTAIN YOU, MAYBE THIS VILLAGE WILL!” He hears Cyn' Rath scream. A low rumble began to emit from the tree beside Scrios, and he felt more of his power get pulled inside of it, and he watched as a mysteriously bright portal opened up behind Cyn' Rath.
In the shadows of an outstretched oak, Scrios continued to wait, as he had for a few decades hoping for the slightest chance to escape. Reaching out, he "felt" the moment about to transpire. Slowly a large deer entered the field and as it progressed towards the center, closer to the oak, Scrios watched intently as an arrow flew thru the air.
With the deer dead in front of him, Scrios waited for the hunter to come claim his prize, and within a few moments he felt the hunter enter into his field. Scrios watched the hunter drag his prize into the shade of the giant oak tree, Scrios had finally ensnared the hunter in his trap.
As the deer carcass fully passed the boundary of the shadows, the hunter fell back onto the ground and shrieked with horror as the limbs he dragged it by ripped off. With the stench of death and rot filling the air, from the gaping holes at its shoulders, the hunter rose to watch as part of the beautiful field faded into a dark grayish bog, and the large oak of which he took shelter under changed. With outstretched branches, the large oak reached for him.
Screaming in horror the hunter collapsed to the ground, as a low laughter filled his confused and terrified mind. Rising up from the ground Scrios looked from left to right, and took in this new perspective. With a slight smile he began walking from the long dead tree and murky bog and began stepping into the live field.
While he walked through the field, he allowed his hands to gently caress the tops of the wheat and with each plant he touched, it began to wither and die. As he took his steps across the healthy field, the indentations of his'among the dirt began to fester and spread among the living soil, leaving a path of rot and death in his wake.
A long time passed before Scrios joined in the adventures of the other strong beings living on Solaris. He encountered a Watcher that slowly began to trust him, and earn Scrios' trust as well. After adventuring with the Watcher, the Gorgon, the blind priest, he began to remember things from his past.
Scrios eventually learned to live again after meeting Krauser several times, and the other warriors around the villages of Elyndrel, Roshema, and even those forgotten, or erased, from time. He had created his own village in the mountains of Solaris, which was subsequently lost to the Second Flux that ripped their world apart. He had found new friends in the past, learned to harness his decay and help those that were lost. He has defended the villages of Solaris whenever he could, and even helped souls pass to the other side, without taking any energy from them.
He even sacrificed himself, unsure if he would return, in order to save the lives of many warriors during an attempt on his friends life. In doing so, Scrios caused a large tear between their world and the Afterplane in which they were all shifted into and separated. Scrios was sent back to the portal to the Great Beyond, and forced to stare into oblivion until Krauser appeared several months later, and rescued him.
What had started as a life dedicated to controlling the power of death, has ironically turned into one that tries to protect life occasionally. Yes, he is an Demon, but that does not mean he has to be evil. Scrios has spent these last few years learning how to harness his Shadow energy in ways that were never thought of before. He may even one day learn how to convert it into another form, one that gives life, instead of only taking it.
As time goes on though, the ancient Demon has found himself longing for something. Is it a return to true life, or is it a true death? Only time will tell.