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Description
Here is the sexy babe~

Art:
Species:
Character:

I made his backstory now. :I

History:

His first group was still a mercenary group but far stricter and their name was known far and wide. I mean like full on matching armors and stuff. Mercurius was still a leader and founder but he wasn't the only one. His best friend founded the group with him and together they blossomed from a duo to basically a mini army. They had their own stronghold and everything. Mercurius was more outspoken and arrogant at the time but still friendly. This group was unstoppable. But Mercurius was naïve.

He was very young at the time but still considered to be one of the best. So naturally his head was worth very much. Now to Mercurius, bonds surpass money but that wasn't the case for his friend. But Mercurius trusted the guy with his life and was blind to the subtle shift of loyalty. He was well liked but as more and more members were promised a share of the wealth, the more enemies he gained. So one night, as he slept, his 'best friend' stabbed him in his slumber. Mercurius should have died that night but his friend forgot about the fact that the wraiths could think and move on their own. Since they could not do physically damage to the traitor they opted to posess the weakened Mercurius instead in order to force his body to live and heal. However his body could not handle the strain. This is when his blitzed form was forced onto him. The physical pain from the stab would caused the skin to fall off his bones as they shifted to handle the forced power. The power of the wraiths turned his coat monotone as smoke split from his body. The emotional and mental pain of his betrayal causes the blood to drip from his orbs, eternally crying. Even his voice changed to only be able to give a piercing scream like his wraiths.

In the hazy mist of his suffering, Mercurius ripped apart his ex followers, unable to truly tell foe or friend. He tried but there were no friends to be found. His wraiths screamed anger into the night as his sword was stained crimson. Even the very moon turned to a blood red to match the slaughter going on below. Soon, only Mercurius and his ex-friend were left. Loyal to the end, Mercurius tried to plead and reason with his friend but to no avail. It wasn't until the man shot at his head that Mercurius finally reacted. All it took was one swing and the man's head rolled. Exhaustion finally took over the brute as his body collapsed under the pain of the wound and cursed form. Even as he fell to the ground, Mercurius could not falter. For there was one more. One more loose end that could deal the final blow to the young male. So he crawled. He crawled as his skin peeled off his hands and his lips were too dry to move. He crawled until he saw it. A single hut, deep within the forest. Alone. Quiet. Too quiet.

The male pushed himself on trembling limbs to crash into the door. It swung open slowly as if time slowed itself. Yet even time could do little to protect Mercurius from the mess inside. The large crimson mess that was once his lover.....and their son. It wasn't until that image burned into his skull that Mercurius fell into the warm hands of darkness. This was a safe house. No one knew about it besides his family.....and his friend. Of course, they were professionals. No loose ends. Regardless of their innocence. Mercurius may not have perished in their ambush but they had wounded him. And it would leave a scar that would not fade no matter what time had to say.

Many ask why Mercurius travels alone. He would smile and reply "Because I'm an annoying bastard. Very hard to deal with." Many accept the lie at face value. Mercurius does not argue otherwise. But the wolf travels alone.....because he can trust no one. He has no home. No companions to fight beside. No one to return home to in safety. He recreated the old mercenary group under it's new title, The Vagabonds. And while he may protect them, Mercurius does not trust them. He stays at arm's length, leading when necessary and watching otherwise. There are no safe houses for him so the male wanders from place to place, never staying for more than a week. He can not gain true friends because he lost the ability to place faith in them. And this makes him guilty. Guilty that he cannot look upon someone without suspicion but refuses to be betrayed once more.
His tale is not known. The famed old mercenary group and it's infamous slaughter perhaps to the apocs of old. But few would remember the names or even think to put Mercurius there. Even less would recognize the symbols that are tattoed across his collarbone. If they did, well maybe they would realize that they were the symbols from the old group. Maybe if they got that close to see, they could ask him about it. Maybe he would deflect the question. Or maybe he would answer. And finally......finally allow someone back into his scarred heart.

But Mercurius doubted that.

(I'm so evil. *le tries to laugh and ends up sobbing grossly in the corner*)

Description
Here is the sexy babe~

Art:
Species:
Character:

I made his backstory now. :I

History:

His first group was still a mercenary group but far stricter and their name was known far and wide. I mean like full on matching armors and stuff. Mercurius was still a leader and founder but he wasn't the only one. His best friend founded the group with him and together they blossomed from a duo to basically a mini army. They had their own stronghold and everything. Mercurius was more outspoken and arrogant at the time but still friendly. This group was unstoppable. But Mercurius was naïve.

He was very young at the time but still considered to be one of the best. So naturally his head was worth very much. Now to Mercurius, bonds surpass money but that wasn't the case for his friend. But Mercurius trusted the guy with his life and was blind to the subtle shift of loyalty. He was well liked but as more and more members were promised a share of the wealth, the more enemies he gained. So one night, as he slept, his 'best friend' stabbed him in his slumber. Mercurius should have died that night but his friend forgot about the fact that the wraiths could think and move on their own. Since they could not do physically damage to the traitor they opted to posess the weakened Mercurius instead in order to force his body to live and heal. However his body could not handle the strain. This is when his blitzed form was forced onto him. The physical pain from the stab would caused the skin to fall off his bones as they shifted to handle the forced power. The power of the wraiths turned his coat monotone as smoke split from his body. The emotional and mental pain of his betrayal causes the blood to drip from his orbs, eternally crying. Even his voice changed to only be able to give a piercing scream like his wraiths.

In the hazy mist of his suffering, Mercurius ripped apart his ex followers, unable to truly tell foe or friend. He tried but there were no friends to be found. His wraiths screamed anger into the night as his sword was stained crimson. Even the very moon turned to a blood red to match the slaughter going on below. Soon, only Mercurius and his ex-friend were left. Loyal to the end, Mercurius tried to plead and reason with his friend but to no avail. It wasn't until the man shot at his head that Mercurius finally reacted. All it took was one swing and the man's head rolled. Exhaustion finally took over the brute as his body collapsed under the pain of the wound and cursed form. Even as he fell to the ground, Mercurius could not falter. For there was one more. One more loose end that could deal the final blow to the young male. So he crawled. He crawled as his skin peeled off his hands and his lips were too dry to move. He crawled until he saw it. A single hut, deep within the forest. Alone. Quiet. Too quiet.

The male pushed himself on trembling limbs to crash into the door. It swung open slowly as if time slowed itself. Yet even time could do little to protect Mercurius from the mess inside. The large crimson mess that was once his lover.....and their son. It wasn't until that image burned into his skull that Mercurius fell into the warm hands of darkness. This was a safe house. No one knew about it besides his family.....and his friend. Of course, they were professionals. No loose ends. Regardless of their innocence. Mercurius may not have perished in their ambush but they had wounded him. And it would leave a scar that would not fade no matter what time had to say.

Many ask why Mercurius travels alone. He would smile and reply "Because I'm an annoying bastard. Very hard to deal with." Many accept the lie at face value. Mercurius does not argue otherwise. But the wolf travels alone.....because he can trust no one. He has no home. No companions to fight beside. No one to return home to in safety. He recreated the old mercenary group under it's new title, The Vagabonds. And while he may protect them, Mercurius does not trust them. He stays at arm's length, leading when necessary and watching otherwise. There are no safe houses for him so the male wanders from place to place, never staying for more than a week. He can not gain true friends because he lost the ability to place faith in them. And this makes him guilty. Guilty that he cannot look upon someone without suspicion but refuses to be betrayed once more.
His tale is not known. The famed old mercenary group and it's infamous slaughter perhaps to the apocs of old. But few would remember the names or even think to put Mercurius there. Even less would recognize the symbols that are tattoed across his collarbone. If they did, well maybe they would realize that they were the symbols from the old group. Maybe if they got that close to see, they could ask him about it. Maybe he would deflect the question. Or maybe he would answer. And finally......finally allow someone back into his scarred heart.

But Mercurius doubted that.

(I'm so evil. *le tries to laugh and ends up sobbing grossly in the corner*)