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Bliston Ascor

"Every flag I've carried I've watched burn to the ground. I don't care about the politics anymore. Just give me the coin and I'll make your little problem disappear."

0 · 341 views · located in Baekoth

a character in “Revolution of the Heretical”, as played by Wake


Bliston Ascor

"I've seen a lot of this world. Enough to know that things stay the same, no matter how much they appear to change."



A hulking, hunched over, gray skinned creature Bliston is everything most people expect a Daemon to look like. Horn, sharp teeth and a massive body set upon powerful looking limbs. His visage causes one to immediately think of him as a dangerous beast, and he does little to dissuade the idea.


Hair: Bald
Facial Hair: hairless
Eyes: Red
Build: Muscular and Bulky
Skin Tone: Grey
Height: 8'1"
Weight: 322 lbs
Voice: Bliston has a deep gravelly voice, that sounds hard and low with a with a slight lisp to it, comparable in tone to that of an alligator speaking. Despite the hardness of his voice however he often speaks pleasantly and politely, rarely using obscene language and talking to others at eye level. though some would note that this can make him sound even more intimidating, which is something he may be going for all along.
Handed: Ambidextrous
Body Markings: none
Scar Tissue: Surprisingly little, considering the amount of violence he takes part in, though this is largely in part thanks to the thickness of his skin.
Unique Body Features:
  • Scales, you wouldn't notice it at first glance, but a closer examination of Bliston's skin will reveal tinny interlocking plates covering his flesh.
  • Horns
  • Sharp, claw like nails
  • Sharp teeth

Name Bliston Ascor

Nickname Nicknames are something you give to friends.

Title The Scourge or a Thousand Battlefields.

Race Daemon

Visual Age difficult to place

Factual Age 547

Gender Male

Sexual Orientation Celibate

Mage Ranking Noram

Class Mercenary.


Personality Bliston would at first appear very amoral and apathetic. He murders and slaughters for profit, gives little care for the plights of others and has even done some genuinely heinous things over the centuries. He has no qualms about ending another persons life, or fighting for a not-so-just cause, or switching allegiances as soon as a contract expires, and he does have some very morbid habits. The truth of the matter though is that he isn't so much malicious as he is just completely deadened to it all at this point. There was a time once when he really, truly, did care about the things that went on in the world and tried to affect it.

But instead of changing the world he let then the opposite happen, and the world change him. With every last ounce of optimism beaten out of him Bliston has at this point given up and turn to toward base desires and needs. Now his only motivations seem to keep himself fed and keep himself moving, as if he's afraid stopping will rob him of what little he has left in him. He does his job, takes his pay, and then moves on without any though on his current employers goals or the impact they have, only towards whether or not he can keep himself sustained.

This has had the profound effect of making him into the callous and bitter person he is now. He views the world in a bit more pessimistic view these days, regarding everything with a heavy dose of cynicism and everyone with an equally heavy does of sarcasm. He more or less tires to rub everyone the wrong way now, not really expecting a lasting friendship to form out of many. If you have money and a problem he'll listen. If you want something else, take a hike.

Despite that mentality though, some small vestiges of an age lost honor still hide somewhere inside of him. Bliston had always believed in seeing something through to the end and he still does even now. At least in some ways. As a mercenary his word is his worth and it is the one means he has to validate his continued existence. So when he is hired under contract, come hell or high water, he will follow through with it until completion no matter what unforsen complications arise. So iron clad is his instance on this that in the event he receives advance pay on a job and later finds it impossible to finish, he will return and refund all payments to his employer as compensation. Say what you will about Bliston, but he will never break his word.

Quirks Bliston is perfectly fine with eating the meat of any kind of creature, even sentient ones. He also occasionally collects head of anyone he considers an interesting opponent, and attaches to pieces of his armor and weapons as trophies.

Moral Alignment lawful neutral

Virtue/Creed "Only do it if you get paid for it. Do what you've been paid to do."

Motivation Keeping his belly full.

  • The undead

Goal ---

  • Mutton
  • Mead
  • Money

  • Elves
  • Cheapskates and cheats
  • Anyone spouting a 'holier-then-thou' lecture morality
  • Horses
  • Anyone bringing up Kakergash.

Strengths Aside from his own combat prowess, Bliston is also remarkably attentive and sharp witted. Though many think him just a large brute he's actually quick to pick up on small signs and details, age and experience have allowed him to hone his instincts to the point that he can detect things others can't. A shifting of eyes, foot falls on leaves, miss spoken words or hesitation and a movement of hands are all tells if someone his hiding something or even planning to ambush you if you can recognize them.

Weaknesses Distrust. Bliston expects the worst of everything and everyone, and as such tends to rely on his own talents rather than the aid of others. This makes him a bit anti social and less willing to join 'team tactics'.

Is your character literate? In what languages? Someone as well traveled as Blsiton tends pick up on at least a few phrases in multiple languages. Prominently he can speak orcish, common, elvish, and can spout a few rudimentary phrases in some more barbaric languages. He may in fact, due to his age, know a few languages that have long been dead and only known in scholarly circles.


Rating System
[Perfect] - [Excellent] - [Good] - [Above Average] - [Average] - [Below Average] - [Poor] - [Very Poor]

Hand-to-Hand Combat: [Excellent] Physical strength and toughness is something he has in abundance, as well as nails that are naturally sharp enough to count as claws, making a fist fight with him a poor choice.

Melee Combat: [Perfect] There's a reason Bliston is called the Scourge of a Thousand Battlefields. He's lived long enough as a warrior to have actually been on a thousand different battlefields. Nearly five centuries of violence, near death experiences, bloodshed, sweat, and pain have forged Bliston and his naturally strong body into an engine of destruction. For all his size, Bliston is fast with his arms. Couple that with long sharpened combat instincts, his inborn physical advantages, and a indomitable built up endurance against exertion and pain and you have a nightmarish force to be reckoned with.

Ranged Combat: [Below Average] He knows how to load a crossbow and throw a stone, but don't count on him him to hit a moving target from forty paces away.

Magic Combat: [Very Poor]

Mounted Combat: [Poor] Bliston doesn't like horses. Horses don't like Bliston. There is no way they would reconcile their differences when under threat.

Racial Abilities:
  • Toughness [Excellent] His skin and bones are a lot tougher then most, allowing him to take an extra bit of punishment.
  • Daemonic Strength[Excellent] A particularly strong breed of Daemon, Bliston could easily snap the neck of a normal human.
  • Scent detection[Above average]Bliston can find it easier to pick up soft scents that others would miss.

Natural Talent
  • Instinct [Good] Experience has made Bliston very good at reacting to unforeseen threats and discerning when things are about to go bad.
  • Intimidation [Good] You'd be surprised how far you can get with a few flash of your jagged teeth and and waving a few severed heads around. It's certainly gotten Bliston out of a few unnecessary scrapes and loosen a few tongues.
  • Endurance[Excellent]He can take a punch and he can march a mile, to paraphrase. Bliston has seen a lot of activity, so his body has become accustomed to long durations of physical stress and excretion.

      Class Skills
      • Haggling [Excellent] Easily to worm out a better deal when you're eight feet tall and have a scary reputation.
      • Information gathering [Good]A bit of bribery, a few veiled threats, and Bliston will have someone singing everything they know.



Clothing/Armor [Above Average] Bliston is clad in what initially seems a fairly formidable set of plate-mail. But closer inspection will reveal all the dents, scratches, and even cracks that adorn it. He's managed to to maintain it very well for this long, but even he has to admit that wear and tear as reduced the effectiveness of his armor.

Accessories: shrunken severed heads. He wears a set as a necklace and another hanging from his sword. It used more as a means of intimidation, as most will back down and not bother you if you walk around with proof of your capacity for murder hanging from your neck.


Weapon Name: Hevnoraak
Weapon Type: Great Club
Material: stone (mineral unknown)
Ammo: none
Length: 6 ft
Weight: 88 lb
Weapon Description/Info: Blsiton has held this weapon for centuries. How he acquired it is a mystery he refuses to divulge, but it has since become an iconic part of his image. It is a large club with a spiked head shaped to focus impact into a central point and composed of stone that does not appear terrestrial in nature. Literally called 'brutality' in an olden tongue Bliston has used this massive club to smash and bludgeon thousands of enemies to death, both man and beast, across the centuries.

Weapon Name: Ahkan and Grahz
Weapon Type: axe and sword
Material: steel
Ammo: none
Length: Ahkan (the axe) is about three in a half feet long while Grahz is a full four (excluding chain).
Weight: Both of them are roughly twenty pounds each.
Weapon Description/Info: Much less mysterious then Hevnoraak, both are just an ordinary axe and sword. When in tighter quarters or in need of a bit more speed and finesse, Bliston will switch to these to allow more flexibility.


Group Affiliation None

Marital Status Single

Relatives none still living

Origin ---

Social Rank vagabond

Occupation Freelance mercenary.

Bio/History: Bliston Ascor. His story is a long and bloody one with tales of violence and death across the continent. But his origins are relatively unknown. For the best really, as there is little positive he has to say about his youth. And outcast from as early as birth, like many daemons, Bliston had to struggle to survive for as long as he can remember. He doesn't remember the place of his birth, and by all accounts his village of origin has probably burned down centuries ago. What he can say that he remembered is being caught by a group of soldiers on the outskirts of town one day and being press ganged into joining the army. Know one ever came looking for him from what he remembers.

In those early days the young brat that would one day become the scourge, was living a less then renowned and glamorous life style. He was the bus boy, the cleaning runt. He's daily choirs had been to clean and maintain the weapons and armor of all the bigger soldiers, while trying not to get hit for some small perceived slight. This started to change though when he got older, and bigger, when they started to put a mace in his hand and shove him out onto the front line. He still got flack from the other soldier then, but beating quickly became less common once he proved to be tough enough to take it and strong enough to hit back. During those early years he developed the fighting skills that he would refine later refine come to depend on all his life.

In time though the army that he served in collapsed, it's home nation having lost the war. Bliston was left at loss with what to do with himself when that happened, having no where to go or no practical craft skills to reintegrate into society. Fortunately the choice of what to do was made for him when the opposing military simple found him and press him into their service, as he had been before. And so from there it went, with each decade Bliston marched in one army or the next fighting for some war or another and not always understanding what he was fighting for. As he did his talent as a warrior grew, and so did he gain a bubbling reputation. A reputation that people would now seek him out for, though he wasn't called the 'scourge' just yet.

By now Bliston had come to see much of the world, having reach over almost two centuries in age. He saw things that could inspire, along with that which would horrify. He saw poverty, discrimination, greed, and a continuous struggle for survival and, naive bastard that he was at the time, actually thought to try and change some of it.

It was at this time that he met another Daemon by the name of Amous. There had been yet another war going on when they met, between a large tribe of orcs and a kingdom of which he forgot the name of after it was destroyed. What was being fought over Bliston has long forgotten and stopped caring. But what he did care about was what Amous had shown him. Refugee camps. Unusual not int he fact that they existed, but of who was in them. A mixture of human, Daemons fleeing prosecution and even orcs that did not submit to the leading warchiefs of the time, along with other outcast of less renown races. And he had heard Amous tell him of a plan he had, to take all these people far away from the prejudice and war that was running rampant at the time, to an unclaimed stretch of territory just south of the elven lands. There they would build the makings of a town, a city, and carve out a small nation for themselves where everyone of the outcast with them could stand on equal footing and decide for themselves what was civilized and respectable, rather than be told at sword point.

Intrigued, Bliston followed him. And to his surprise they managed just what they had set out to do. A town, small at first but sturdy was built in far edges away from civilized lands. They made it just prosperous enough to survive and grow. Word of it's existence spread as rumor, of the small town in lands untouched by kings, and the attraction of more refugees became inevitable. For the next century Bliston watched as the small community that Amous had started, that he had helped start, grow and swell with numbers into a strong and independent city. Kakergash they called. For the first time in his life Bliston (now called 'Captian Ascor of the city watch') felt like he had actually done something of true worth, actually made a real difference in the world.

But things had a way of not working out the way you had hoped. For you see, in order for Kakergash to continue to grow and prosper, it needed resources and materials. Farmland and lumber. And their northern neighbors the elves had the most fertile lands in the known world. Though Bliston still held blame upon the elves, it could be agreed upon that it was Amous' stubbornness that caused what happened next. Small excursions into the forest, cutting down tries and tearing up the land to lay down farm crop. 'Just a small plot of land' Amous had said. 'Just a small plot there. They wont notice. And if they do, it's too small for them to care.' But the elves did notice. And they did care. Messengers came, angry, demanding immediate eviction from the new taken territory. Arguments sprang up when attempts at a compromise were ignored, and the elven messengers were shortly booted out of the city once it had reached a boiling point.

Skirmishes started after that. A raid here, a scuffle with a patrol there, a retaliations against some other small slight over there. More and more Bliston found himself getting put back into the role of the warrior again, but at the time he thought it all just a minor squabble. The elves, on the other hand, didn't hold the same view though. They wanted the Kakergashian's gone. Not off the land they took, not making recompenses, gone. All the raids and scuffles up to that point were attempts to scare them off, and when they didn't and stood their ground... well...

What happened that night was something Bliston would never forget, nor forgive. Kakergash, destroyed. It's people scattered. Bliston's friends, all dead. What Happened that night 237 years ago was the catalyst for Bliston's now jaded and grim persona. He returned to the lands east, of the kings and their wars, and threw himself back into the bloodshed. He no longer cared about the 'hows' or 'whys'. All thoughts towards the idea of a different tomorrow died in him, and left him with nothing but the more base desires. As if he was rebelling against society as a whole, he embraced the viciousness of the world and earned himself a reputation as a monster who butchered for coin and had no morals to hold back his ire.

It was then that he finally gained the name 'Scourge of a Thousand Battlefields'.

So begins...

Bliston Ascor's Story