An unrelenting force, who wanders the world in a seemingly aimless quest. Little is known or remembered about this particular soul. Perhaps he serves a greater motivation.
Perhaps with time his purpose will be revealed to him.
A specimen who refuses to grasp the certainty of death and aims to challenge even the most dire of circumstances of which might befall in doing so, maybe he can repent for what he has sacrificed in the process.
At a young age they had forsaken the most joyous benevolence, that was generally to be expected at that age. Instead they valued himself in their studies, the accumulation of knowledge, to be admired and distributed to those he viewed as worthy of his work. However everytime this memory floods back to them, a horrible cold sensation makes its way throughout their body, knowing that if the opportunity had presented itself to themselves, would they have killed the Little One as well in an attmept to cure all. Only to bring about the end of the world?
Once a clergyman of considerable acclaim, now he has been branded traitor for crimes of infidelity and unfaithlessness. Enraged against the church he took it upon himself to forsake all sancitity of the new world, and reanimate the corpses strung about these accursed lands.
Despite the talk of the church being of forgiveness and sanctuary against these trembling times, he was cast out of no fault of his own. Now he has nothing left, except anger against those he once worshipped, and to challenge an army. You need an army of your own. So he practiced the art of necromancy, a long forgotten school of otherworldly power derived from the powers held by Lords long ago. As the strange sensation coursed through his veins as he spoke to the dead, only one thought remained, Authority and the power to wield it.
Once a noble's slave, starved of his freedom and autonomy. Forced to eat the skin off rats to satiate his hunger. As he felt the strain against his chains he begged a higher being to hear his pleas, to grant him the freedom he once had. With a heavenly thunder echoing throughout the still chasm. he had gained his freedom, just to find inhumane creatures tormenting the world once inhabited.
He was a bard before his capture, spewing songs and capturing hearts.
Bartender: "Please god, just do it"
*The Outsider produces his gun, aiming at the desperate man's head*
Outsider: "Wouldn't have to tell me twice."
Grew up in a quaint village, that would soon be prey to a werewolf. A happy carefree life awaited him had fate and horror not crept in. A blood moon swept the sky as the God's mourned their loss, an unseen lycanthrope spilled the town red. The young boy mourned the loss of his family, his friends, his identity, he vowed he would live for them, build his own life. And carry their memory with him, til the end of his days.
He awakes now, free of the nightmares that haunt his dreams, the shrieks, the terror that enveloped his home. He stands to find a hand at his side, and remembers what he lives for now. His new family.
A distopian feeling lingers in the air, the smell of gasoline, and a violent urge to maim and cleave through every unsuspecting prey, the valve tiks as slow, heavy footsteps march though the sea of corpses. The air is heavy, with the must of smoke and pressure vacating the surrounding environs, driving out the needy, the desperate, the delicious. As they lick their lips, and take a deep breath in, they begin their cruel slaughter.
Ronin: "You know our fires aren't just for show, it's to strengthen us. We forge our weapons in the carcasses of the slaughter"
Outsider: "..."
Ronin: "Not only does it keep them fresh from any bug bastards, but it honours them."
Ronin: "And we don't play favourites"
*He produces the outsider's spear. Tossing it to his feet*
Ronin: "Newly forged with all my men you butchered."
Ronin: "I knew I was gonna like you, killing all my men. It seems this cruel god has finally brought me a fair fight."
Ronin: "You know I'm not cruel, I merely embrace the flames of this decaying world."
Outsider: "Neither am I. I'll be doing a lot of good putting an end to your shitshow."
Ronin: "Heh.. ok hero, show me. Are you worthy to forge your blade further?"
(Main inspirations for the Ronin are Nagoriyuki (Guilty Gear Strive) and Death (Puss in Boots))
The Ronin believes in a code forged from the fires of battle and tempered by the harsh realities of a decaying world. To him, honor is not merely a relic of the past; it is a living, breathing force that shapes every action and decision. He sees the flames as both a weapon and a teacher, illuminating the brutal truth of existence—life and death are intertwined, and every fight is a dance between creation and destruction. He reveres the spirits of those he vanquishes, believing that to honor their memory is to wield their essence in the fires of combat. Each weapon he forges is a tribute to the fallen, a reminder that strength is born from sacrifice. In his eyes, embracing the chaos of the world is the path to true mastery, where cruelty is an illusion, and only the flames of determination can forge a worthy blade.
Smell the gasoline. The Ashwakers. Hold your coin tight, for the bandits and bastards are coming. Under new management.
Following a higher society of faceless, they are plotting to bring a new dawn to humanity by experimenting with living flesh and other horrors, perceiving the outer gods' wrath as the new evolution of humanity, they take unwilling subjects and experiment on them, all whilst hosting their own brand of cruelty. Fear the old ones.
The castle of crimson was my idea for a secondary plotline in the game. Similar to how dlcs just add more to the game. Following a family of vampires stalking the land and terrifying locals. Unfamiliar allies included, and perhaps the opportunity to expand your arsenal of abilities in new ways. Long Live king Vakolv!
A new face in town, following the stench of death like a rabid dog. Will he find what he's looking for?x