Kamakulzar
Demon
Kicked out at an early age of his single mother's home, very deep in a mountain range, Kamakulzar is a young adult, a towering figure of deep crimson skin stretched taut over a heavily muscled frame, built more like a demon of raw physical menace than subtlety, standing fully upright with squared shoulders rather than hunched or crouched. His build is lean and powerful through the chest and stomach, defined and taut rather than heavy or rounded. Two massive horns rise from his brow, black and thickly ridged, sweeping backward and upward in a long straight arc away from his face rather than curling forward or coiling like a ram's. His face is long and drawn, the bone structure sharp and elongated beneath the skin, with a heavy jutting brow that casts deep shadow over his eyes and a jaw that extends further than a human's ever could. His cheeks are hollowed and sunken, pulling tight against angular cheekbones, and his mouth stretches unnaturally wide across his lower face, carrying a permanent snarl that exposes the set of his teeth even at rest. His hands are large but otherwise ordinary in shape, without exaggerated claws, though his fingers and toes end in dark, blood-red nails, hard and serious enough to scrape with. His shoulders and upper body are bare, and he wears loose fur trousers below, preferring to roam barefooted, skin glistening and scarred, while a dark, ragged mantle hangs loose from his shoulders down his back, torn and weathered as though it has survived centuries of use.
Despite his fearsome appearance, he carries only one dark agenda, and even that isn't innately vile: a drive to grow more powerful, paired with a competitive streak that sharpens whenever he crosses paths with others of dark or demonic appearance — rivals he can't help but want to outdo and best. He is on Arteris, a world much like Toril but with its own faces and locations, and he moves through it with a strange sociability, drawn to gatherings and company even though most who see him react with fear rather than welcome. He enjoys stirring up trouble for its own sake, not out of malice but out of a kind of restless amusement, more inclined to cause chaos and disruption than to pursue any real threat or scheme. He is a free roamer, unaffiliated, but acknowledges the deities, though he does not care for any of it and does as he pleases, often burning things with flame. His demonic powers are strong, and he also carries a faint twenty percent red dragon bloodline, adding to his obsession with fire. He often freeroams and doesn't target truly innocent things, as he sees them as too frail to defend themselves and not a challenge — until he was made heavily drunk and muddled-feeling for several weeks by a divine green bunny with star-shaped patterns that jaded him after he startled it. Now he has an odd respect for divine creatures; though he already respected powerful good deities, he did not respect their creatures or stewards of the divine before, but now has a strong respect for them.
He was humbled by the starred, green bunny no bigger than his hand — something he never saw coming and still doesn't fully understand. It left its mark. Now, standing before a good priest, someone whose divinity was actually earned rather than merely claimed, that same feeling resurfaces: a strong respect edged with something close to fear, close to awe. Not for the priest's power to hurt him — he doubts they could — but for whatever it is they've earned that he hasn't.
In his younger days, he'd already become addicted to pushups, driving himself through them obsessively and seeing massive results — dense, large muscle stacking onto his frame at a pace that startled even him. So when strangers he'd run into roaming failed his own rough moral checks — cruelty, cowardice, whatever crossed his line — and he acted as their judge himself, challenging them to slap boxing, they understood exactly what they were up against: demon-muscle-builder slaps, harsh, powerful, open-handed, and whip-like, capable of beating a grown man nearly bald. It was his own crude form of punishment, dealt by his own hand. He was obsessed with his own muscle back then, with how naturally adaptive it was to working out and how rapidly it grew as a result, driving himself through exercise binges — pushups by the thousands — chasing more growth. His demonic reflection, whenever he caught it in a mirroring surface, felt more cutting-edge than others, more handsome, and that feeling fed his vanity, leaving him overly muscle-bound and full of himself through his youth.
Even after all that, by nature, he still carries an obsession with fire, pain, darkness, and cruelness. Maturity tempered how he acts on it — but it never left him.
He has finally hit maturity and become civil, none vain of his appearance and losing his immature traits he had as a youth like hurting travelers for fun. He no longer judges and punishes travelers himself — that work belongs to the powerful now, priests with real purity, and others like them. He knows, with his new respect, that they can handle judgment and punishment far better than he ever could. Now that he has grown out of his teens and matured, he retains his fighting skills, but he has stopped doing pushups religiously and obsessing over his self-image compared to others. He now carries a very sturdy staff of amusement he crafted himself of strong, dense ash wood, as he roams.
Unknown Lore: He has no blood or much of any kind of internal organs. Though he possesses dense muscle, he is usually bloodless, but only at intense moments does he have a heart at all — an eight-chambered demon/red dragon heart, and a flow of chi rather than blood. He has bled at times, which confuses him as a self-educated roamer, but he knows he generally doesn't.
by Kenny Brewster
