Nameless Demonspawn

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Nameless Demonspawn (I)
Standard-bearer of the Silver Fellowship
Status Inactive
Race (Demon) Human
Hometown (Demon Realm)/Midgaard
Classes Warrior
Followed Gryphon
Partner DarkClaw
Parents Ebencaleneezer & Mellisande
Relatives Uncle to Deamhan & Diabhail

Mud Contributions:

Current Description:

You see before you a figure cloaked in shadows. Something is not quite right about him. You look closer and see that he seems 'bulkier' than he should. Suddenly, his face turns towards you. The scent of a Beast fills your nostrils. From the depths of his cloak, glowing red eyes stare into your soul, shriveling it with his gaze. This 'thing' stands and snarls, his cloak falling away...
What stands before you resembles NOTHING human. It looks like something out of your worst nightmare. A huge, hulking, deformed Beast. A lion-like head, huge bat-like wings, a long whipping tail, and fur covering his entire body. Where in the realms something this 'repulsive' could have been borne you do not know, nor do you wish to ever find out.
Then you look closer, past the Demon-like visage. You are drawn to his eyes. Something else is there. Something other than evil mindless hatred. He returns your gaze, unwavering. And then you see it A single tear rolls down his Bestial visage, and deep within those blood red eyes you see the only 'human' trait left in this deformed, wracked body...

for he is nameless, and he is the son of Ebencaleneezer. King of Demons.
Nameless is in perfect health.
Nameless is using:

<used as light>    (Glowing) The Standard of the Silver Fellowship
<worn on finger>    the rainbow rock crystal ring
<worn on finger>    the sparkling coral ring
<worn around neck>  the Amulet of True Seeing
<worn around neck>  the flaring emerald amulet
<worn on body>      a suit of bronze plate
<worn on head>      a pair of black spiral demon horns
<worn on legs>      some silvery leg plates
<worn on feet>      a pair of plate boots
<worn on hands>     a pair of plate gloves
<worn on arms>      a pair of plate sleeves
<worn about body>   a huge morning star
<worn about waist>  a studded leather girth
<worn around wrist> the old chrysoprase bracelet
<worn around wrist> the tarnished iron bracelet
<Worn as shield>    a golden dragonscale shield
<wielded>           a bone-handled long sword
<worn with pride>   (Glowing) The Crest of Lord Nash
<worn with pride>   the Silver Aegis of Gryphon

WHO Lists:

Hum [ Wa:14 ] Nameless. sorrow. only sorrow. (-All) {Nash}
Hum [ Wa:20 ] Nameless demon of the FellowshIPS {Nash}
Hum [ Wa:21 ] Nameless demon of the Fellowship. [PadL] {Nash}

Character History:

(PARTIAL Story written by the player of Nameless, just prior to retirement)

Nameless was in the Sanctuary, meditating on the parchments left there for study by Lord Gryphon, when there came a timid knock on the open door. Looking up, he spied a small, shy urchin peering in timidly. The child gasped, his eyes widening upon seeing the demon’s visage, and he swallowed hard and somehow managed to stammer out, “S-s-sir? Are you the N-nameless One? Uncle to-to D-deamhan?” At the beast’s nod, the urchin extend a shaking hand to give Nameless a rolled message scroll, then gulped and said, “Tha-that’s a message from him, s-sir.” As he turned and scampered thankfully out the door, he cast one last fearing glance behind him, apparently not having taken the time to think that worshipers in this particular place would not harm him.

Nameless unrolled the scroll, and, began to read, unaware of the lines that furrowed his brow more deeply as he read further.

Greetings to you, Uncle, and Ybarra’s peace upon you.
I would like to speak with you at your earliest convenience; I went to visit my mother Magda recently, and have learned some things from her which I believe may be very important to you, although I’m not entirely sure. She [here the handwriting faltered a moment, as if the writer were in the grip of some strong emotion] has not been well lately, and I am not always sure when she is ‘present’ and aware of what is real, and when she is lost, missing Father. As for Father.. well, I know he is your brother, Uncle, but it is only my devotion of my lord Khore that leads me to give Vil his title as my parent and to yield to him what grudging measure of respect I can – anyone who could do what he did to Mother… Well, that is a matter for another time. I look forward to seeing you, as it has been far too long; and please convey my greetings and love to Cordir as well, should you see her.
Peace on you,

Deamhan was on the Great Western Road when suddenly he sensed something amiss, otherworldly senses flaring a warning a brief moment before his Uncle stepped out of the shadows of the Deepwood. Nameless stepped up onto the road, and bowed deeply. Perhaps it was just the light, but it seemed to Deamhan that his relative’s face was perhaps a bit more ragged than usual…

“How fare you, young cousin?” Nameless asked, a brief smile flicking over his lips, revealing a flash of fang. Deamhan remembered the last time he had seen his uncle - in Lord Khore’s Cave… standing before the Darkness… Lena, DarkClaw, and other Kindred there… but… that was, sadly, before Khore’s Ascention.

Pulled from his musing, Deamhan answered, “All is well, Uncle. It is good to see you again. You are doing good, as well, I hope?”

Nameless seemed even more distant now, if that were possible, as if distracted by other thoughts, other voices. “This one is well, thank you for inquiring. You mentioned that you had spoken to Magda. Is she well? Or is Vil’s ..” here a scowl pulled his features into a grimace. “`wrath’ still taking its toll?”

With his uncle’s scowl and words, Deamhan recalled what he always tended to forget about Nameless… his utter lack of emotion for those of ‘his kind’, so closely related by blood. The cold uncaring for his family… and a startling lack of that same antipathy when it came to Deamhan himself…

The two chatted for a short time, exchanging simple pleasantries. Eventually, the decision was made to retire to an inn in Ofcol for some tea, and further conversation. Once more, Deamhan noted the oddness about his uncle, a distracted air, as if listening to voices long past. He wondered if the rumors and stories that had been circulating of late were true; that his relative had turned his back on Nash, and even verbally opposed Lord Sirak, taking up the cause and support of an old friend, Lady Cordir. The thoughts tumbled one over the other in Deamhan’s mind - the absence of his own Lord, Khore, and how deeply it had affected him and the other Kindred… then linking that to Lord Gryphon’s extended absences… and wondered how his uncle might have been affected.

The two found an out-of-the-way table in the Inn, and seated themselves, much to the discomfort and notice of the other patrons of the establishment, who tried - and failed miserably - to ignore the two half-demons in their midst. Deamhan sat for a moment, turning his cup around in his hands and not saying much, just staring thoughtfully into the tea.

“Uncle, you and I have never spoken much of our mothers, nor of the manner in which we were conceived… I have heard rumors of you, and – well, let me tell you the story of Magda and Vil.” His voice was noticeably warmer on the first name than the second. “Magda, my mother, grew up in Half-Elf Camp, and by all accounts was by far the beauty of the camp. Most say she still is - I do not really know; I am no judge of beauty. How she met Vil, or how he found her, I do not know. Jacek, who told me all of this, would not say, and the one time I spoke to Vil, he was hardly a fount of information either.” Deamhan returned to staring at his tea and sighed slightly before continuing. “Mother loved him. Still does. Was willing to bear his children – Diabhail and I were not the products of rape. Jacek… well, he wouldn’t come out and say it exactly, but I got the feeling he thought Vil had, or perhaps still has, some emotion for Mother as well. I don’t know.” His eyes grew cold and angry for a moment with memories. “When our parentage was revealed to Diabhail and myself with the help of my lord Khore, we spoke to Fa-to Vil. And he showed no concern or caring for my mother – he was what one would expect of a demon. Cold. Cruel. He was all of thirty feet from the tent where she has sat for I don’t know how many years waiting for him, and he would not go to her.” Deaman stopped a moment, and forced his hands, which had begun to crush the cup, to relax. Several customers – none of them sitting closer than a few tables away – glanced over at his briefly raised voice.

Deamhan continued, more quietly, but with no less anger. “She loves him, Uncle! I do not know how she can – perhaps he fooled her, perhaps there is truly something worthwhile to him that only she ever saw and he was so frightened by allowing someone that close to him that he fled and now denies it. I am no more an expect in demon psychology than I am in mortal beauty.” A slight, ironic smile flitted over his lips. “So I cannot explain what my mother told me the last time I went to see her: that Vil had sent her a message.”

At Nameless’s look of utter surprise, the young half-breed nodded, raising an eyebrow in acknowledgment. “I still do not know whether to credit him with being the coldest, cruelest bastard ever to crawl the face of the earth, to raise her hopes after so long and then dash them again, or to see it as I think Jacek does – that he is trying… and failing… Well. The message was this.” With that, he pulled a scroll from his belt and handed it over.

The handwriting was cold and correct, perfectly legible, every letter perfectly formed, but with no beauty in it. Nameless read:

Magda. A little story to amuse you as you waste your life waiting for what will never return to you. It might be true, or it might not. Just as I might return. Or I might not. I shall in any case be amused to see what reaction your little spawn have to this tale of their grandsir. I think their little idea of his grand nobility --oh, did you not know, he protected them from me? They are most enthralled with him--will be nicely shattered.


Once upon a time there was a demon lord. Ah yes, my ever-exalted father, the King Ebencaleneezer. Than whom a more grasping, selfish bastard never walked the earth--and I do include myself in this. He keeps a tighter rein on our destruction than...ah, but I digress. Well. The King was in the habit of entertaining himself by destroying whatever small villages took his fancy, and he liked to indulge himself thus fairly frequently. A number of years ago, one of the villages he had begun to feast on happened to contain a particularly fearless--or foolish, as it were--priest of some tiny god no one else had ever heard of. This priest dared to approach, amusing my father so much by that idiocy that he was actually let live long enough to deliver his message: 'Will you spare our town, and leave us our lives, if we offer you in sacrifice a virgin girl to kill?'

Amused by this new twist to an old game, my father agreed--not, of course, intending to keep his word, for why in the deepest pits of hell should he leave a town standing when he could do as he wished to it with or without their consent? But the word was given, girl brought, priest satisfied...My father, upon seeing the girl, found her a decently comely member of the species, though weak, as to be expected from any creature without scales. He took her; in later years he was always much amused in recounting her screams, weeping and other protestations--as though she thought it would change his mind! Humans! I do hope, Magda, that your spawn show themselves better stuff than this girl. Any rate, demon virility being known for what it is, is it any surprise that the girl conceived? Less a surprise there than that she lived through the experience---need you be told that the King was not gentle? My father, for reasons only his own, but which I suspect have more to do with amusing his own self than with anything else, decided to name the demonling an appropriately modified version of its mother's name, which was the disgustingly human-soft 'Mellisande.' Those plans were laid waste when the demonling turned out to have its mother's human eyes--let me assure you my father was much annoyed to have gone through even what slight effort it took him to get an offspring, only to have a weak result.

The rest of the story is much less amusing to me, so I will close here. But you see that you are hardly the only human to have received a demon lord's attentions--indeed you were rather lucky, I would say, next to that one. Did I mention the birth did destroy her? It was a most amusing end to the story; the demonling clawed its way out of her as would any of our kind, and, well, few human women can survive such a thing. Your own spawn must be most disappointingly un-demonish, given that you survived their births. But enough. Sit in your tent, weep over your loss, whatever you think your loss might be; your pathetic whining is music to my ears.

Deamhan sat in silence as Nameless worked his way through the scroll, though he kept a concerned eye on his Uncle’s reactions, reaching out when the scroll trembled slightly in his hands. As his uncle finished the document, Deamhan murmured, "Not the most pleasant way to learn, perhaps, but I think it to be the truth; not for that I trust Vil, but I prayed for guidance in this matter...Uncle, I cannot give you your name, but I hope that your mother's name will be a comfort to you."

Slowly, Nameless rolled up the scroll, nodding, and gingerly offered it back. Deamhan hesitantly took it and placed it back in the bone case it arrived in, watching his uncle closely, who closed his eyes and folded his clawed hands in front. Deamhan could almost hear his kin’s thoughts racing...or could they be memories? His own memories began quite early, and he wondered if his uncle could recall those events as if they were yesterday, as well.

After a long moment, Nameless whispered softly, almost inaudibly, “You have given this one...something that perhaps he can never repay to you nephew. You have given him a piece of that which he holds more dear than….' A crash from the kitchen brought them both to their feet, hands on weapons. Upon realizing that a terrified kitchen drudge was no threat, he continued, 'Let us go elsewhere to continue this talk,” keeping his head down. Deamhan looked a bit closer but could not see the tears he knew were there.

Nameless led the way out of the Inn, ignoring the grateful sighs of relief and immediate mutterings in the room behind them. Swiftly, almost angrily, he guided his nephew down the Great Western Road to Midgaard. As usual, the guards lept to a taut attention, thinking the two the vanguard of some invading force of King Ebencalneezer, but when Nameless tapped the Silver Aegis device he wore on one shoulder, they bowed to admit him, giving his nephew a curt nod, and allowed entry. Nameless continued swiftly through town, past the magic shop, the baker and main square, then turned down a side road towards the Guild. He stopped, and gestured downward, asking Deamhan to take a look at what the city traffic calmly and ignorantly trod upon every day.

Deamhan gazed down upon a grate. Looking closer, he saw something scurrying past underneath. Suddenly the grate started rattling and a ferocious howl sends shivers of terror down his spine as some big, ugly creature tried to get out. Fear possesses possessed him, and his weapon lept to his hand as the grate started to give way... A Hand reached down and blocked the way, and a Voice boomed "Demons begone!" Shrieking, the demon beneath the grate scurried away into the darkness behind the grate, and Deamhan had to hold on with every bit of will to stand against that command. .

"Those are our 'cousins,' nephew. Do you feel close to them? Do you think this one feels akin to them?" Nameless murmured, shaking his head slowly, sadly. 'This one does not know why you and your brother have chosen the path you have...', he paused a moment, and Deamhan caught the slight stress on the word 'path', as though the speaker was sneering at it's inference. 'This one only knows what he feels to be right, and where the `Fates' may lead him.’

Restlessly, he turned and headed towards the Temples, bypassing the Cave of Khore, and the Sanctuary of his own following. Finally, they came to one of the destroyed Temples, their smoldering remains a pointed reminder of the watchfulness of the Great Ones. Once settled, Nameless began to speak once more.

'We,’ he indicated himself and his companion, 'are Demons...we can never be 'good' in the human sense of the word, for we were created in evil, in pain, in death. You, and others, may accept that. this one does not. This one, this one knows you to have more compassion than our 'pure-blooded' brothers, and for that this one is thankful.' Again, he paused as if tired from a long journey. “You know this one follows the ways of Lord Nash, through Lord Gryphon. However this one has been reconsidering." Deamhan drew back in surprise - for his Uncle had always praised the name of Nash and defended His Will and Word against any that would speak or act against it. Nameless nodded slowly. "This one has seen much that says Nash is not as...'perfect' as this one once thought. Those were the words of demons this one was reading, the words of evil... this one has not told anyone else, but this one has lost faith in Lord Nash..."

Deamhan nod slowly as the implications of this dawned….
Nashites do not attack other Nashites.. The Conclave … No long wearing the 'aura' of Lord Nash….

(The story was left unfinished at this point)


Player Provided Information:

I knew Nameless from years of LARP (Live Action Roleplay). He was a capable and interesting character, and I was drawn into his RP storylines as several of my mortals. I think his enjoyment and skill at RP really surprised a lot of folks, as most of the male players tended to gravitate towards the hack-and-slash side of the MUD.

Personal Timeline:

Player Information:


Nameless was from Southern California, and was introduced to TFC by Gryphon. He was a member of the same live action role-playing group that several SoCal players were from, called the IFGS. The concept for the character of Nameless came from a NPC that he played in a game written by Cordir. He was also the inspiration for the mob, Katt, in the zone Tier Sh’Halen. He attended several GTs, and played a couple different characters on TFC; Nameless, however, was his favorite and the standout. He began working for Blizzard Entertainment while playing on TFC, under the influence of Ivarr and is a credited developer on “StarCraft II: Wings of Liberty”