The Hellhound
| Age 19 |
| Gender Female |
| Origin Devahni |
| Occupation Fighter |
History
Lilith was born to a proud pair of traveling merchants. Her earliest memories are of riding in a tiny, rickety caravan, filled to bursting with all sorts of goods—clothes, carpets, colorful fabrics, old dolls and dishes, and sweet-smelling soaps. It was her entire world, and on the fateful night that it was taken from her, so too were her parents—all for trying to protect her and each other from a greedy band of brigands. Before they could lay a bloody hand on her, she fled down the road and into the wilderness. The next few months saw her wandering from one town to the next, taking food from kind strangers and spending nights under their roofs while missing her mother and father so terribly that the whole of her ached with it.
When she was 16, Lilith found her way to Crorefell, where she met an elvish woman named Isra. She worked as a sellsword, and after seeing her in action, Lilith asked if she would teach her what she knew—she was small and weak, and wanted to be able to properly defend herself. The woman refused—she was neither a teacher nor a babysitter—but Lilith was persistent, following her like a shadow wherever she went. Threats did nothing to discourage her, so when she couldn’t take her pestering anymore, she agreed. Rather than simply teach her how to fight, however, Isra showed her how to maim and kill. Upon discovering her affinity for magic, and after some more pestering, she also shared with her some intimate knowledge of her homeland—namely, how the weavers of Cindersend used their own blood as a medium for the Shroud.
Lilith was eager to put her teachings into practice, so Isra pulled a few strings and brought her to a special, secret place deep within the pleasure district. There, fighters came from all over Ilica to pit themselves against each other for coin and glory. It took some convincing on Isra’s part—few novices made it past their first match, and a little horned girl didn’t paint a very promising picture. Nevertheless, at her insistence, she was let into the ring.
It wasn’t a very warm welcome. Onlookers hissed and jeered at her, and her opponent—a scar-faced mountain of a man—laughed, as if the whole thing were a joke. She was quick to show him that it wasn’t.
To the surprise of many, Lilith was a skilled and ruthless fighter. That grisly match ended in the first of many victories, and before long she made a name for herself in the underground. The Hellhound, they called her, for the bloody beast that she’d turn into when pushed well past her limits—a monster spawned from the deepest, blackest depths of her soul. They feared and loved her in equal measure, and she went above and beyond for them, wanting to please them in ways that only she could, to slake their thirst for blood and feed that yawning chasm within her. Their wide-eyed stares and gaping, smiling mouths, jubilant voices ringing in her ears as she rent flesh and broke bone—the sheer thrill of it all became her sole reason for living. Now she travels around Ilica, seeking to test herself against even stronger opponents, be they man, beast, or some twisted thing in between.
When she was 16, Lilith found her way to Crorefell, where she met an elvish woman named Isra. She worked as a sellsword, and after seeing her in action, Lilith asked if she would teach her what she knew—she was small and weak, and wanted to be able to properly defend herself. The woman refused—she was neither a teacher nor a babysitter—but Lilith was persistent, following her like a shadow wherever she went. Threats did nothing to discourage her, so when she couldn’t take her pestering anymore, she agreed. Rather than simply teach her how to fight, however, Isra showed her how to maim and kill. Upon discovering her affinity for magic, and after some more pestering, she also shared with her some intimate knowledge of her homeland—namely, how the weavers of Cindersend used their own blood as a medium for the Shroud.
Lilith was eager to put her teachings into practice, so Isra pulled a few strings and brought her to a special, secret place deep within the pleasure district. There, fighters came from all over Ilica to pit themselves against each other for coin and glory. It took some convincing on Isra’s part—few novices made it past their first match, and a little horned girl didn’t paint a very promising picture. Nevertheless, at her insistence, she was let into the ring.
It wasn’t a very warm welcome. Onlookers hissed and jeered at her, and her opponent—a scar-faced mountain of a man—laughed, as if the whole thing were a joke. She was quick to show him that it wasn’t.
To the surprise of many, Lilith was a skilled and ruthless fighter. That grisly match ended in the first of many victories, and before long she made a name for herself in the underground. The Hellhound, they called her, for the bloody beast that she’d turn into when pushed well past her limits—a monster spawned from the deepest, blackest depths of her soul. They feared and loved her in equal measure, and she went above and beyond for them, wanting to please them in ways that only she could, to slake their thirst for blood and feed that yawning chasm within her. Their wide-eyed stares and gaping, smiling mouths, jubilant voices ringing in her ears as she rent flesh and broke bone—the sheer thrill of it all became her sole reason for living. Now she travels around Ilica, seeking to test herself against even stronger opponents, be they man, beast, or some twisted thing in between.
Appearance
| Height 5'4" |
| Build Thin |
| Hair White |
| Eyes Red |
A small and slender girl, with pale, pink-tinted skin. Her eyes burn a feverish shade of red, and her short, fluffy hair—once white as snow, now a bit darker, dirtier—frames her soft, round face. Compared to the more colorful races, she’s fairly plain-looking, but she has her oddities—namely, her pointed ears and the small, devilish horns that jut from her forehead. Tattoos also cover her arms, legs, and back in swirling, senseless patterns.
When she moves, it’s with an unconscious sort of grace, and so she tends toward clothes that give her the most freedom of movement—short skirts and dresses made of thin, soft fabric that boast bright reds and whites.
When she speaks, her voice is thick with the sweet, innate innocence of a child’s, breathing life into words that fall from her lips like lyrics to a long-forgotten song. But Lilith is no longer a child, and those cherubic tones have become far more unsettling than soothing.
Her other form is a grisly, wolf-like beast that stands at twice her height. Blood drips endlessly from open wounds upon her back, where metal spikes protrude from her flesh, and although she reeks of iron, there’s an underlying, almost sickening sweetness to her scent—like overripe fruit.
When she moves, it’s with an unconscious sort of grace, and so she tends toward clothes that give her the most freedom of movement—short skirts and dresses made of thin, soft fabric that boast bright reds and whites.
When she speaks, her voice is thick with the sweet, innate innocence of a child’s, breathing life into words that fall from her lips like lyrics to a long-forgotten song. But Lilith is no longer a child, and those cherubic tones have become far more unsettling than soothing.
Her other form is a grisly, wolf-like beast that stands at twice her height. Blood drips endlessly from open wounds upon her back, where metal spikes protrude from her flesh, and although she reeks of iron, there’s an underlying, almost sickening sweetness to her scent—like overripe fruit.
Personality
Impulsive † Childish † Resilient † Possessive † Ambitious † Reckless
Skills
Primordial Form
† Lilith can't fully control when and where she transforms; usually, it's triggered by moments of extreme stress, or when her life is in danger.
† The transformation itself is painful, and when she reverts to her original form, she's often so weak and exhausted that she can't move. The longer the transformation lasts, the more time it takes for her to recover.
Magic† Lilith can create fire and manipulate her own blood; the former comes easier to her, but she favors the latter.
Combat† Lilith is skilled with knives and some polearms; her main weapon of choice is a dual-bladed glaive. What she lacks in physical strength, she more than makes up for with speed, agility, and a deep understanding of the weaknesses of mortal flesh.
Art Credit: https://www.deviantart.com/witchynade-shop
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