I figured I'd post sommat here, seeing as I've never posted anything... I'll follow Koba's example and post about my in chat OC, Zacman the Damned
I was a drifter, going from place to place, dabbling in various magics, sometimes getting involved in a war or maybe just causing trouble. Eventually, I found haven in becoming a member of the secretive order of Nightblades, the dreaded magic-wielding assassins. I worked for them for a long time, until I had money enough to move on. I drifted away again, but I knew that they would keep tabs on me-as is expected by such an elite order. During one of the many wars I was involved in, I was separated from the force that I was with. I fled into a cavern, and deep below it I met a figure in a black cloak and mask. The enemy soldiers chased me down, and I collapsed from my wounds, begging the stranger for help. He waved his arm, and shadows flew and scortched the flesh from the enemy soldiers. Within minutes, all that was left was dust. I blacked out, and when I awoke I was in a black room, with a gate in front of me. I passed through it, for the first time entering the Daemon Realm, or one of them at least. I encountered a shadow daemon, the source of a shadowmancers power. In the Daemonn realms they were slaves, their names and voices stripped from them. In the mortal realm, the sun burned them. The daemon grabbed me and vanished, and became part of me, gaining a voice and the name I gave it (Which was the orders traditional and highly unimaginitive Oni-Zac) The Shadowmancer who had saved me and given me the power came to me one last time. He gave me a uniform, the black cloak and mask, and informed me that I would have to learn to use my power myself. And so, the Daemon taught me to call upon its power, but what I soon experienced was something I had never been warned of. While I fought, I was overwhelmed, and so I called upon all the power I could from the Daemon, and obliterated the enemy soldiers with my shadow. As the shadow grew, my hands became cold as death, and began to burn. I managed to call back the power as my flesh burned, and I collapsed, burns all across me. I later discovered I had suffered Magical Burnout. Shadowmancy is, for the most part, incompatible with the human form-Unlike Pyrokinesis, for example, which one can learn, Shadowmancy requires the Daemon as the source of power. The Daemon gave me too much power for my mortal body to handle. The end result was losing about 30 years of life force, a small ammount considering most suffer instant death.
And so I freelanced, occasionally meeting up with other shadowmancers, which was never pleasant-I was pushed to assist in their agenda, and so I avoided them. I became a researcher, collecting and examining magical artifacts. One set of artifacts I found were twin swords, one gold and one silver-black. The accursed swords of Night and Day, which made me their wielder, forcing me to kill to escape the all consuming madness they would bring, until Rick broke the curse and I was saved. During the time I was cursed, I trained my shadowmancer abilitys to unsurpassable levels, and also mastered Daemoncraft. I was recruited by divine forces to erradicate Daemons with too much power. One faithful day, after I had slain many Daemon Lords, two of them united their power. I killed one, and much later the other, but they sealed off my power and hid 7 keys I needed to unlock it once more. For a long time I sought out the keys, working once more for the Nightblades, then becoming a freelance swordsman after earning an incredible secret from them. Well, that about brings me to where we are now, plus the Shadowmancers now wanting to KILL ME, because I gave the power to Koba XP
