Name: Tyrian Sajemi Gunda
Race: Angel Blood
Age: 32
Sex: Male
Height: 8’0”
Weight: 500 lbs
History
Tyrian was born in the realm of Onen to the Great Lord Gunda, ruler of the southern plague lands. Tyrian knew his mother was an angel, but never knew her name. To be half-angel was rare, but not altogether unheard of in this realm. Tyrians father never told him her name even though he asked many times. Still, he had an old widow woman his father appointed to watch over him as his mother would. It was strange that the servants and other lords in the realm did not know exactly who his mother was either.
Though Lord Gunda never wed, he was still a good father and an honorable man. His post in the kingdom was one of the lowliest, though probably one of the most important. Many people had forgotten the wars and battles fought there to protect the kingdom. Tyrian knew it was soon after one of the greatest battles there that he was born and his mother had been with his father in the battle. His father had many scars on his face and body. Some scars were very gruesome and his skin healed dark green, blue and black. Despite his appearance his prowess in battle was legendary. Once Tyrian had even heard the King, praise his father as “The most steadfast of the four pillars on which his kingdom rests”. Lord Gunda’s armor sword and shield were heavy with cuts dents and scrapes. The blacksmiths had covered and mended, though where, was plainly visible.
Tyrian’s battle training started early. Though he was very large for his age, a sword and shield were put in his hands as soon as he could hold them. The master at arms was easily mistaken for a cruel man to the casual observer, though to the students under his tutelage, he was cunning and deadly. Every task Tyrian did was with purpose, no energy was ever wasted and no lack of effort was ever unpunished. Through hours and hours, days and days, months, years, and decades his training never ceased. As his training progress through those years, there was one thing he dreaded and desired most at the same time. On occasion, his father would take over his training for the day, sometimes two, but very rarely. Though Tyrian was much larger than his father, he took an extra sever beating on those days. His father was sight into his opponents was unmatched. Every move Tyrian could make, his father saw past it and put Tyrian on his back, or face. His father was unendingly patient with him despite his many repeated mistakes. His father would counsel him on honor, courage, selflessness, integrity, duty, and sometimes even love. Not the romantic kind of love, but the love a good master has for his servants, the love of his homeland, and the true meaning of love…selfless sacrifice of your life for someone else.
Rumors had been spreading that a new evil had risen in the plague lands. As most deadly things are, it started small, barely a whisper, then it grew quickly and began to spread and decimate. By this time Tyrian was a full grown man, well bigger than a full grown man. He was a mountain in stature and had a fearsome gaze. Though he had years of training and had helped his father clear their lands of bandits, thieves, and marauders, he had never been truly battle tested and hardened. His size allowed him to dominate most of his adversaries and those that were big enough to stand up to him, were not nearly as well trained. This new threat promised to be a true test for Tyrian.
Evil unlike anything he had seen, met him on the battlefield. Legions of sorcery fueled monsters, Demons, and undead charged them from all sides. The King called all his forces to rally against this enemy. Lord Gunda was in charge of the vanguard as always. Perhaps this is why the king thought so highly of him. The enemy screeched and howled and rushed to taste the blood of the Kings men. The King ordered the charge to meet them and great horns sounded down the ranks of the vanguard. Lord Gunda and Tyrian led the charge as the leaders of their ranks must be first to face death before their men. They were far outnumber, though had no training. Tyrian and his father fought side by side fighting as one devastating force.
The numbers of the slain enemy mounted quickly, but for every one slain two quickly took its place. The flanks of the formation began to fail and the men began to panic. The line stared to break and the shouts and screams for retreat could be heard from men all around. Lord Gunda charged forward further into the enemy line and yelled for his men to follow in hopes to reform his line. Tyrian did not see this initial dash from his father and turned to follow, but it was too late. A spear pierced through his father. Tyrian fought to move through the hoard to save his father, but he could see the life in his eyes fade.
Tyrian was surrounded by the bodies of his fellow men, and his father. As the evil rushed at him to finish its destruction, the heavens opened and a beam of light blasted down to earth. The light was so bright none could look at it. Dazed, blinded and afraid the evil turned to respite. Time seemed to slow and finally stop. As the light grew softer, Tyrian could see the most splendid angel he had ever heard of. The angel moved slowly to his father, already cold on the ground, and knelt to kiss him. Tyrian could see a woman of great beauty adorned with armor that shone with the light of the sun. She turned to Tyrian and spoke. She told him she was the Archangel of Peace and she was his mother. She told him how she had broken her command to never love a mortal. She told him she could not fight with him that day, but she would give him a gift. She gave him her sword and shield and told him to kneel. She laid her hands on his head and began a prayer. As she prayed Tyrian could feel the light of the heavens fill his body.
She finished the prayer and as she had come, blasted back into heaven. Tyrian rose fueled with heavenly energy and charged his enemy. He leaped into the heart of the enemy coming down with a thundering blast that sent his enemies flying. Every swing of his sword cut his enemies in two. He would charge again with his shield trampling all in his way. He drove his sword into the earth and the ground split with a tremendous earthquake. The more the evil charged him, the more powerful he became.
Finally after many hours, Tyrian stood alone on the field of battle. The line had been held and the enemy defeated. The King named him lord in his father’s stead, and named him High Lord Savior of the realm. Soon he would be called to another realm to destroy the evil that has risen there as well.
Tyrian awoke to the sounds of the streets around him. His head was pounding and his eyes blurred everything. After a few moments, his vision came to him and the throbbing in his head slowly subsided. He looked at this new world and remained speechless for a while. He was in an open area with a great statue of a man holding a planet on his back. People ran around him and past him. Many were shouting for help with attacks and quests of all sorts. Tyrian tried to remember how he had gotten there, or what he was doing there, but could not. His memory was gone.
Tyrian was dressed differently from those around him. His heavy armor, sword, and shield appeared to be unique to the dress of the other people. Actually he noticed that the people here were dressed in one of three distinct categories. The first were people that were just moving around from place to place, with no apparent sense of urgency as with the others shouting all around him. They looked very soft and he had the impression they were drones like in a giant bee colony or something similar. The second type were scattered about, interacting in different ways with their surroundings. They all seemed to share common themes with their dress and most have an unkempt look about them. Some of them were yelling too, but they would be yelling at someone, vs. yelling to someone. The last group of people were truly amazing. They were dressed in all manner of clothing, armor, and outfit. They all seemed to rally together as one would announce a terror in the sewers and needed assistance, another would cry for out of control robotics in another portion of the city. Some would call for aid in defending against an alien invasion, and others would call for help defeating terrors and evils only the most epic of the group would group answer too.
Tyrian did not know what to do, but as he decided he fit less into the first two groups, he moved toward the third and quickly realized what he was there for. The cries for help echoed in his ears from all around. Tyrian could feel strength move through his body as he traveled throughout the city helping everywhere he could. As his power returned, his memory returned. His name returned. His purpose was clear. With the training and guidance of his father, and the power his mother had given him, he quickly defeated every threat this new world could devise. With this new world his powers grew beyond anything his previous world had seen. He not only became master of his sword and shield, but of the earth and light energy from his mother’s ancestry. Every attack swept his enemies away, clearing his path. The new power over the earth would send his foes flying into the air as shards of rock exploded from the ground underneath when he stomped his foot. His power over the light became immense. His foes would be sucked into him, as he gathered all the light to his presence, then violently blasted away in all directions as the energy was released.
High Lord Savior had once again fought evil and helped save this new world. The otherworld guardians of this realm bestowed on him the title of Incarnate, though this peace would soon end. As years of warring with alien invasions took its toll on the invaders, a device was created to end the war forever. The people of this world had minutes when they learned of their world’s destruction. There was no time to stop it, only time to save as many people that could be saved through the portals this world managed. The Incarnate High Lord Savior knew his powers would be lost and his memory forfeit when he entered yet another world. His last act before entering the portal was to vow to save the next realm and never allow its destruction. He focused all his power into his sword and burned two symbols into forearms, one on either arm as reminders of his vow. The marks glowed with the energy from the sword as Tyrian stepped through the portal.
Thanks for reading. Sorry its rather lengthy.