(Archive) Armen

*"All the world is a nightmare. You'd do well to abandon fear." - "Armen" Stevsonov*

## History

Armenansky (Armen to most) was born in a far flung kingdom, a son of a merchant family. His family was quite large, and indeed, he had his work cut out for him when it came to standing out. So as he studied, he sought out the guidance of the God of training and competition - Kurgess.

It would be through His wisdom and guidance that he figured out his true path in life - That of joining the King's legion of scouts and protectors. The wilderness outside of the cities of the kingdom was vast and untamed, teeming with monsters that preyed upon the merchants and peasants traveling the roads.

Armen brought to the guard his religious zeal for competition and training. Such an attitude made his rise in the ranks fairly quick, earning him a small amount of jealousy from his peers. Yet even they could not deny the effectiveness of his abilities! Such was his connection to Kurgess that he could cast spells of divine power, moving faster than normal men by bounds and striking with divine retribution. He could even supernaturally warn his allies of danger, turning near-fatal hits into normal blows with but a word of warning.

He was thusly given a position in a special group of scouts, a highly trained band of soldiers whose job was to adventure into the deepest and most dangerous areas to root out whatever lurked there. As a result of such a dangerous job, he quickly became familiar with how to identify many monsters and also with how to stitch together grievous wounds in the field. His compatriots could be a little...odd, given the nature of the job. The Scouts were drawn from all ranks of society, usually the strongest (And typically in his experience, the strangest) were given this job in an effort to extend the life expectancy of it.

He worked with all manner of races, all kinds of strange warriors wielding bizarre combinations of powers. After a while of such adventuring, he grew used to abnormalities, forming the calm and professional demeanor that defines him today. Still, nothing could have prepared him for what occurred on the night of his last expedition.

They were told they needed to remove a small werewolf problem in a distant region of the kingdom, left unexplored for some time. They'd need to establish an outpost to work from, and what better place than an old house a noble family had established many centuries prior? They were told the family had died out, and the place was abandoned. When they entered, however, they found the place crawling with all manor of ghosts and ghouls, infested with horrors never witnessed before.

It was evident, then, the master of the house had gotten up to something strange. It would definitely explain why nobody had ever seen them again.

The monsters fell on the party, and though they held their own, soon they began to fall. Some fled into the night in terror, others were bludgeoned to death by animated suits of armor. Armen could not retreat, as to do so would betray his oath of duty. He held fast, even as his party was reduced to him and him alone.

When he at last came to the end of the house, to the master's bedchamber, he considered whether it would be wise to try clearing the last room. Deciding that leaving just to come back to even more undead somehow having proliferated in the meantime would be infuriating, he opened the door.

Waiting for him on the other side was a monster. Was it a vampire? A lich? A being yet unknown to mortal men? Armen could not tell and can hardly recall. Screaming cries of religious zeal, he merely charged into battle, and then into darkness.

When he awoke, his jacket fell waterlogged and his hat fairly soggy. He pulled himself off the sandy dunes of an unknown beach and spat into the saltwater surrounding him. He wasn't sure whether he had died or the creature had managed to fling him into another dimension. Closing his mind from such fearsome possibilities, he staggered into the town of Fiend's Reach, unsure of his purpose now, knowing only that his skills felt like they could be of some use to this new world.

## Appearance

Armen is a tall, whipcord-thin man. His muscles, far from bulging monstrosities, are built more lithely than most. His hair is short, curly, and black as coal, but his eyes are as blue as a calm lake in the spring. He wears large, circular glasses and his body is adorned with scars of battle familiar to anyone who has spent their life in war.

His typical outfit consists of his high-necked jacket and small cap, the latter of which is adorned with the emblem of his kingdom. His typical rather sour-faced expression doesn't exactly engender confidence in many. Rather, his usual look evokes more a feeling of near constant disappointment than anything else.

## Personality

Armen has a severe distaste for seemingly anything joyful and fun-having. To that end, he can't remember the last time he laughed and when he smiles, it's clear he's just faking it. However, that doesn't mean he's sad either. Instead, he's mostly ambivalent and professional, calm to a fault. He rarely gets phased by what he sees, barring use of fear inducing magic!

Armen handles most things with a quiet efficiency out of a desire to complete his job before anything can go wrong. He maintains an even temper, but dislikes being covered in the usual grunge of adventuring and can start fuming if he notes that other adventurers are wasting his time with their lollygagging.

## Friends

Armen used to be able to count his fellow Scouts as friends, but given that none have washed ashore, he instead only counts himself.

## Enemies

Armen hates the undead with a passion, particularly vampires. The foul creatures were responsible for many of the losses inflicted on his friends from his old life, and the fact that they are pale imitations of the person once inhabiting their body offends him on a spiritual level.

However, he currently has no specifically named enemies otherwise.

## Aspirations

Armen seeks a purpose in his new life most of all. His once large family is no longer around for him to rely on, and he cannot turn the soldiers in his unit for familial comfort either. While he is content to assist other adventurers on their jobs, until he has a dedicated purpose in his life he feels as aimless as driftwood in the sea.

Establishing his own peaceful, orderly settlement would go a long way towards giving him a sense of fulfillment. Carving out a safe area from the dangers of the wild would at least let him know he at last has completed the mission last given to him, even with the deaths of his comrades.