Nyghtmon Mansleir

## Backstory

No one knows when Nyghtmon first came into being, not even the man himself. Maybe it was the day his father killed his mother, or maybe he's just always been their, watching the world go by from behind Daemon's eyes. But we do know when he first took control. It was the night his mother died. Nyghtmon considers himself a defense mechanism, a sort of guardian angel to his immature counterpart Daemon. So when the young Daemon witnessed his mother's tragic death, Nyghtmon took over, to be both avenger and protector. Nyghtmon stood from the spot where Daemon had been kneeling for the evenings beating, calmly picked up the bottle his father had been drinking from, and smashed it over his head, covering him in what remained of the moonshine within. He then proceeded to stab the man several times with the broken end of the bottle, before tipping a candle over onto him and burning him alive, along with the rest of the house.

Nyghtmon knew that the fire would soon bring the authorities, and he knew that they would want to either lock him up for the murder of his parents, or send him to an orphanage, so that very night, as his home burned behind him, Nyghtmon stowed away on a cargo ship headed for the western twin. Once there Nyghtmon did everything he could to set Daemon up in a stable situation. So Nyghtmon took up a leading role amongst the urchins of the town of Jahree. There he met a young Xuag girl named Lyza, and together the built up from themselves a small hovel on the outskirts of the city. It wasn't much, but it was home. Nyghtmon and Lyza would go into town and earn the money they would need to live, and then come home to take care of the rest of the children. Finally he was ready to give Daemon control again. He said his goodbyes to Lyza, and went back to sleeping in the dark corners of the young boy's mind.

Yet fate would not be so kind to young Daemon, and Nyghtmon once again found himself having to intervene. Daemon and his band of urchins were tricked by a group of cultists, and offered up as sacrafices to the god Yag'vor'il. Daemon was forced to watch a second time as his whole world came to an end. So again Nyghtmon had to take control, and as the cultists prepared to slit Daemon's throat, Nyghtmon broke free of his bindings, wrestled the sacrificial knife from the cultist's hands, and began to slaughter the cultists. It was here that Nyghtmon first discovered his affinity for murder. Sure killing his father with the broken bottle was exhilarating, but nothing like this. Nothing could compare to the feeling of sharpened steel slicing through flesh and sinew, or match the rush of archs of blood soaring through the air as Nyghtmon dashed from one man to the next, cutting them down with an efficiency that both terrified and delighted him. It was here that Nyghtmon's outlook changed. He was not in fact a guardian angel, but an avenging Demon, let loose onto the world to punish all who would wrong his young charge. With this in mind Nyghtmon stood atop a pile of corpses, looking down on the last remaining zealot. The man had a fear in his eyes that Nyghtmon found oh so appealing. Slowly he walked towards the man, and as he turned to run Nyghtmon threw his knife, striking the man the the back of his knee. The man toppled to the ground, and before he could begin to crawl away Nyghtmon was upon him. Nyghtmon stepped down hard on the blade, driving it further into the man's knee. "Alright, this goes down one of two ways, either I kill you, slowly, painfully, and without mercy, or, you tell me where the rest of you yahoos are, and I end it quickly. "Th-Theives' landing," the man manged to stammer between screams of terror and agony. Nyghtmon smiled, his newly sharpened teeth glistening in the dim light of the cave, "Thanks buddy." he said, as he plunged his knife into the man's chest, over and over, cackling the whole time, and as Sol rose over the horizon the next morning, Nyghtmon was already on a ship headed for Thieves' landing.

At first Nyghtmon had some difficulty finding his targets. Most people would just brush off the twelve year old boy asking around about a cult with pointy hats, but eventually rumors spread of the strange boy, and Nyghtmon found himself approached by another group of the men. Yet he was not the eager young recruit they had expected him to be, and after much blood shed and several rounds of torture, Daemon learned the location of the cultist's lair. It was here that Nyghtmon's arrogance got the better of him. Assuming himself invincible, he charged the place head on, and alone. While he managed to fell most of the lackeys, the leader of the cult proved to be too much for him. He was a massive brute of a mig, standing at least 7 feet tall, wielding two massive axes. A normal man would have had to use two hands to hold just one, but he used one in each hand as if it were nothing. Nyghtmon fought him fiercly, but was ultimately defeated when the man knocked him upside the head with the flat end of one of his axes, pinned him to the floor with his massive boot, reached down, and snapped both o Nyghtmon's legs like twigs. Nyghtmon screamed out in agony, and in a last desperate effort hurled his knife at the man's face, burying it deep into his right eye. Garth let out a scream of agony, stumbling backwards and knocking a brazier off of the wall, setting the room alight. Nyghtmon felt himself slipping into unconsciousness amidst the burning inferno. *This is fine,* He thought to himself, *I avenged the kiddos, I'm sure Daemon won't mind us dying here.*

Nyghtmon awoke in a bed in a small clinic, with a large orc standing over him. "So you're finally awake." He grumbled. "One of my guys watched you walk into that place, he figured you was one of them poor sots they dupe into walking in there with so they can do that weird ritual sacrifice thing they do. So imagine my surprise when he reports back that the place is burning to the ground. Gotta say kid I;m impressed. I was planning on taking those guys out sooner or later, they give me the creeps, but I was gonna send at least ten guys in to get the job done, and you did it all by your lonesome. Went in and killed every last one of 'em, 'ceptin of course their leader Garth Oc, my guys saw him gettin on a boat headin' who knows where." Nyghtmon sat up abruptly, ignoring the pain in his legs.

"You mean that bastard walked out of there with a fucking knife in his eye?"

"Yup, would seem so." Nyghtmon laid back down and let out a scream of anger.

"I'll kill that fucker! Soon as I can walk again ima go lookin for him, and when I find him..."

"Whoa, easy now, there's still the matter of your debt to me." Nyghtmon looked at orc, quizzically,

"Debt?"

"Well someone pulled your ass outta that fire, and someone's gotta make sure your legs heal up right, then there's the matter of all the property damage caused by the fire. Funeral costs for all the poor souls inside, noise complaints. The list goes on kid."

"What are you getting at orc"

"What I'm saying is that I have use for you, and now I've got you under my thumb, so from now on you're gonna do what I say, otherwise you might find yourself in a similar position as the poor sots you put in the ground last night."

So Nyghtmon spent the next several years working off his debt to the orc. His name was Murphasa Gogalug, and he was something of a leader in the community of Theives' landing, and Nyghtmon would act as his enforcer, earning the nickname Murphy's Law. Whenever Murphasa needed a message sent, he would dispatch Nyghtmon to deal with it. At first Nyghtmon was resentful of the orc, but he quickly grew to enjoy his new situation, and eventually he all but forgot about Garth. He was having much too much fun slaughtering Murphasa's enemies on an almost weekly basis, cackling wildly all the way. Nyghtmon finally felt at home here, he was doing what he felt he was meant for, he even found a rival and friend (at least in Nyghtmon's mind) in another of Murphasa's men by the name Cuervin Regent. The two shared many a mission together, and Nyghtmon grew to respect him.

Years passed like this, and the day finally came when Nyghtmon had repaid his debt, and suddenly for the first time in years Nyghtmon thought of his other half, the one he was supposed to be doing all of this for. How could he have been so selfish? He'd spent eight years of Daemon's life being a cold blooded killer. How could he ever atone for this? Then he remembered the tails he'd heard of Brachdoon, the new world full of possibilities. It was perfect, he could send Daemon there, give him a chance to start over. And so, a week before finishing day, Nyghtmon boarded a boat headed to Gustus Rock, and from there he boarded another vessel headed for Brachdoon, and finally, after eight long and bloody years, relinquished control to Daemon.