Demon Realm

May 2017 Featured RPG


Dance Puppets, Dance
No Content Restrictions

Eden OOC Information

IC Posts
The anti-hero of the ages. Damsel in distress? Well, you're looking at the wrong demon to be your knight in shining armor. If you would like to plot with Dyrnar, please feel free to hit up my OOC account! All graphics/codes are from google and other sources and have been tweaked accordingly! Please don't steal! Thanks!

Character Information

Character Type
Face Claim
Solo Demon
Ian Somerhalder
Human Pronouns
Human Age
Demon Pronouns
Demon Age
White Rabbit
Real Estate Agent & Appraiser

Character Summary

"If you're going to be bad, be bad with a purpose."

I am the Game Master and the world is my chessboard. Do you have what it takes to be my opponent on the game board? Having been taught the art of fine words, smooth speeches and duplicitous phrases, I rather enjoy a conversation with others. Not everything I say will have a sarcastic or lustful tone interlaced through my words.

I am patient, for it comes with the territory. I guard my thoughts and my feelings quite well, because in The Game, you can never give away your moves or your strategies. And while you may not always win the battle, the most important thing is to win the war.

I despise humans. While some have proven themselves a cut above the rest, the race as a whole is nothing more than disgusting vermin to me. They were the ones who dared to claim that which did not belong to them and I am not above putting any human in their place that dares to cross me. They are amusing pieces for the game board, to say the least.

Nothing will stop me from committing great pain to a human or demon, no matter who they are or even if they are good or bad.

Though gaining my alliance or friendship is a trying task, it is well worth it in the end. If I ever deem you worthy as a "friend," it's a guarantee that your back will always be watched. Cross me and, rest assured, you've made an enemy for life.

We are all the broken, the beaten and the damned. It is those who rise above such tribulations that are deemed worthy to continue playing this little game called "Life". Come join me at the game table and let me deal your hand - to see if you can play against me with the cards you've been dealt.

Because when you play The Game, you play to win.

I am The Ghost in the Darkness.

Now you see me. Now you don't.

Ascensions and Legacies

















Character In-Depth

Chaos. Complete and utter chaos.

It was something that seemed to follow anyone within his bloodline and it was no different for Dyrnar. Perhaps it was the destiny of any connected to the his mother and father's blood - demonic and gnarled and twisted. Nomadic in nature, it was no surprise that Murphy's Law must have been in effect with this family. The dwindling numbers within the Vistine Tribe and distance between the different clans was a direct cause of their need to preserve their livelihood, even at the cost of intermingling with the human race. They had to blend, lest they be hunted down and killed.

Amidst the chaos of their own world beyond The Veil, Dyrnar's family fled only to be slammed face-first in the middle of the wars among the humans. Their homeland, now modern day "Iceland", was in the middle of an all out massacre between it and the neighboring tribe of humans. How could this have happened? And why, for all that was good and gracious left in the world, did his father decide to bring another life in the midst of it? Dyrnar was born and not too long after did his family flee the chaos of being hunted to attempt to live a quiet life in the countryside.

And that is how Dyrnar lived most of his childhood years. A country boy, a demon by blood as was his nature. He would often sit around, listening to the tales that his oldest brother would weave about the legendary "Nine Tailed Demon Fox of Ryoshima," one of the most terrifying and charismatic demons in the history of their kind; a demon who lived in the Far East. In fact, only tales of the crazed Enero, an ancient demon killed at the hands of his most loyal friend and sworn human brother, Krylancelo, could attempt to match the level of intrigue that pulled Dyrnar into its world.

Reziel, his oldest brother, and Valenti, his youngest sister, were born with strong abilities, something that Dyrnar had always been extremely envious of. How had he, the one most in love with the stories and powers of their kind, been born so weak?

The years passed on in the humble little farming village he stayed in. It was a quiet and peaceful life, almost a different world unlike the truth behind the ravages of the war among the other clans. His family was always in the know in regards to the news, but Dyrnar idled most of his years as he fantasized about becoming a powerful demon someday. Adhering and undergoing the ceremonial rights of their tribe, Dyrnar was able to be granted some form of peace. His burning desire to become something that he was not was ebbing and the responsibility of truly being a man fell on his shoulders.

Perhaps this maturity that was acquired had been the start of something awakening inside of Dyrnar. In the midst of the wide open fields of their farmland, he would often daydream about a land seemingly far away. A land of desert sand, of spices and the blazing sun overhead and where horses ran free. A land of life and a land of passion. It was a land that Dyrnar felt so close to, and yet so very far away as he tended to the sheep in the fields as his older brothers, Reziel and Fritz, tended the new fields they tilled with their father. He had spoken with his father of this land so far away, a dream-like place, to which he simply told his son to stop daydreaming and tend to his duties. That when the time came, he would find a way to send his son to whatever land he so chose, so long as he maintained his duties at home and to the family.

But no such day would come. None at all. Shortly after his second older brother, Fritz, was married and Reziel's own children were young, did disaster strike. One the likes of which will forever be burned in Dyrnar's mind for all of eternity and the fuel for his future hatred.

Dyrnar had been tending to the sheep, chasing away a few stray foxes and a lone wolf who'd happened into their land, rewarding himself with an afternoon nap. But after sneaking the wine out of his father's collection due to an "altercation" of sorts, the lad had had a little too much to drink and drifted to sleep in the fields. He had been awakened to the piercing sounds of shrill screams, the frantic baying of the sheep, and the splintering of wood just beyond the hill where his family's sheep and cattle herds grazed. Night had fallen on the land. How could he have slept for so long?

He raced down the hill with everything he had, his lungs threatening to burst inside of his chest and Dyrnar's feet had missed the mark, forcing him to tumble down the hill. He didn't notice that he'd sprained his ankle. He didn't care. The screams of children inside, of his mother and sister, continued to push him forward. As Dyrnar burst through the doors of his home, his nose was immediately filled with the foul stench of blood as his eyes lingered along the walls. Red smatterings were everywhere and as his eyes followed the trails that were left behind, he was horrified to see the head of his brother, Fritz, hanging from pale fingers that entwined through his jet hair as the other hand had his sister-in-law's torso elevated above the intruder - the blood dribbling from the young woman's now lifeless body. A smile etched his lips as he saw his brother's head falling to the floor of his childhood home, Dyrnar's breath hitched in his throat as the human now began to tear apart what remained of his sister-in-law.

Dyrnar took a step forward, the tears burning his eyes but refusing to shed from his piercing blue depths. However, before he could even make a move, he saw his father's form flying down the stairs - the screams of his mother and sister echoing throughout the house. The screams of his mother were cut short as the sickening sound of flesh tearing apart seemed to reverberate against the walls. Before Adelbert could rise to his feet, the creature who had successfully finished off Fritz and his wife was now on top of Dyrnar's father, his already bloody hands plunging deep into Adelbert's stomach and pulling out his intestines - slowly and deliberately as if it were lifting a bucket of water from within the depths of a well. The image of his father's mouth gurgling out blood and eyes taking on a clouded hue was chiseled into Dyrnar's mind, making his fear become overshadowed by an overwhelming sense of rage.

A pair of strong, familiar arms grasped Dyrnar in a bear hug from behind. He didn't need to turn around to know that it was his oldest brother, Reziel. He smelled of blood. It was staining Dyrnar's clothes. How could this have happened? Try as he might, Dyrnar could not fight off his brother - the supernatural strength blessed by his heritage too much for the weaker Dyrnar to contend with. Dyrnar screamed and fought against his brother, but to no avail. Reziel ran with all of his might, attempting to flee the bloody mess that had once been a warm and welcoming home - poor as it might have been.

They ran through the woods with all of their might, Reziel missing his own footing. Or so he'd thought. But Dyrnar was horrified to see that his brother had actually been knocked over by one of the monsters who was clinging to his brother's shadow - utilizing some kind of supernatural power to do so. Tumbling out of Reziel's arms, Dyrnar sat up, blood smearing his features as he watched his brother look around in a half panic, but in half anger. The human laughed menacingly, a low and cold laugh that sent a sharp chill down Dyrnar's back. Then, with something that could only be thought up in the most sick and twisted sort of horror stories, Dyrnar watched as the monster moved and controlled his brother, forcing the oldest son of their father to reach into his very own chest. A scream akin to what could only be described as banchee-like issued from Dyrnar's mouth as he saw Reziel pulling his own heart from the cavity within his chest.

Darkness greeted Dyrnar as he passed out, the dying choke of his brother the last thing he heard before plunging into nothingness.

Dyrnar had awoken to the cold bite of ice water soaking his skin. Crying out from surprise, he looked around to see that he was strung up. A lone torch was held in the room by someone in the far corner, forcing Dyrnar's eyes to adjust, but then blur again. It was a cruel sort of torture, and he could already sense that there were at least a few other presences nearby. He did not bother with wishful thinkings that the bloody nightmare he had seen was just that - a nightmare.

"Brother!" came the voice of his sister, Eldarine. She was alive! As he searched the room, he was miserable at knowing that the voice was from behind him. He tried to turn but the ropes prevented him from doing so. His feet were barely touching the ground, preventing him from being able to spin around to face his sister. He demanded to see his sister, to which their captors complied. The creature, pale and menacingly like a demon who had forced his brother to take his own life with some kind of demented form of supernatural power, clung to Eldarine against his chest - his hand moving up slowly to cup her breast. Dyrnar fought against his holds, yelling all kinds of obscenities and threats against the monster, his two other companions also revealing themselves in the glow of the light.

"Pity. Had you been one as strong as the others, I'm pretty sure you would have been a little bit more interesting to contend with. Guess we'll never know." And then he leaned down, sinking his teeth into the tender flesh of his younger sister as her blood sprayed across Dyrnar's face. Her body convulsed, but she was still very much alive. And as the monster wiped the blood away from his lips with the back of his wrist, Dyrnar watched with horror as the other two began to strip and violate his sister's dying body.

Dyrnar's mind snapped. He could hear something crack in the back of his mind and a low chuckle issued from his lips before erupting into a full-blow fit of psychotic laughter.

And then the world went dark.

It wasn't until he had finally awoken and recovered did he discover that his savior was a demon who went by the name, Lyran. His father had once told him stories of the fabled Lyran and his skills as a powerful demon. His bloodline apparently had all been seemingly wiped out many centuries ago. But clearly its last heir was still alive and well. The two of them talked. Or, rather, Dyrnar allowed Lyran to do most of the talking. Dyrnar was still far too numb from the ordeal.

He'd found his voice, begging Lyran to turn him into a werewolf. He wanted revenge. He needed to avenge the death of his family and since Lyran had already taken such a thing away from him, Dyrnar demanded compensation. At this explanation, Lyran was left with no choice, using his abilities to awaken the dormant powers within him.

They bid each other farewell, a promise of one day reuniting again so that Dyrnar could pay him back someday. But until then, he would begin his travels and issue out his own sense of justice.

Somehow, his mother had managed to escape the carnage. There was no one left. But he had to find her.

Many more years passed and he traveled, moving from place to place. How ironic was it that, after centuries, he returned to Iceland only to find that his mother was still alive. She had another child of her own and he was a young demon male. Their mother had named him Lokarihn and Dyrnar was overcome with something he hadn't felt in a long time: caring.

But the damage of losing his family, of his father dying at the hands of those wretched humans was too much. His heart had been hurled into a pit of rage and darkness. He would manipulate and destroy any and all humans he could; in every way possible. But his preferred method had always been through manipulation. Control. Forcing the humans to do what the one had done to his older brother.

Dyrnar drove them all mad.

However, Lokarihn could not see eye to eye with Dyrnar, despite his love of the game they played. It was too brutal; too cruel for his younger brother. This disgusted Dyrnar; the way he weeped for those useless, pitiless and vile human filth. They all deserved to be destroyed and his weakness for them was what finally drove them apart.

But he would get his brother back. Dyrnar would make him see that the way he played the game was the correct way. The only way that would get the humans to see that even now, with demons attached to them, they would fall to their knees and rue the day that they ever tried to hunt his kind down.

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