Sylas is a jokester demon slayer that fights with two longswords. He cracks jokes and likes to taunt the demons that he fights.
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Sorry to hear that Spooky, hope things turn around and look up in the near future!
Sylas continues his assault on the remaining spider.
Sylas steps to the side closer to the Paladin that just took injury, trying to pick up her fight so she could recover for a moment.
"Are you alright Therie?!"
Still whirling his blades, Sylas continues the assult.
Brutally working his swords in front of him, Sylas retorts, "This is not their home Therie, it's a city. Kill them or drag them through the streets to the forests." He attacks again. Trying to circle around and flank the Spider.
Standing beside the silver barbarian, Sylas attacks a spider.
Sylas watches the creature flee, he would find it again, of that he was certain. Following the flight of his friends, he moves to help Loch, drawing his swords and putting away his bow as he moves. Facing down the spiders with Lock and Therie, ready to attack the beasts as the close.
Sylas draws and fires another arrow with a steady breath.
The shriek or arrows tears through the air as he and the paladin continue to barrage.
As the creature flees, Sylas looses an arrow at it's ugly backside!
And the powerful bow lets out a loud twang followed by the shrill hiss of an arrow slicing through the sky.
Sylas viciously cuts into the monster with deft blade skill, his arms flashing with a blurring speed as he deftly spins out of the way of a sulfer blackened belch of fire from the creature's mouth.
Slylas drops his weapons and pulls out his bow as the vile monster darts out of range.
Sylas saw the creature, it was fast. He dashed out of the shadows to stand back to back with Gregor, his swords drawn. "Keep your gaurd up, it won't be able to do that again.
Sylas takes up a place in the shadows under the stairs, sitting on a barrel with his blades drawn, he seems to meld into the night. I need to be able to study this thing before I strike.
"Let's be on our way." Sylas sighs, heading for the door.
"Any exact sightings? Or survivors we might talk to there Vasily?" Sylas asks while tapping his pipe and pinching some more fine tabac into the bowl. Striking it up with a match, the smoky haze hangs about the group's head in the ill lit corner of the tavern.
Sylas shows up at the meeting point, slightly intoxicated from his visit to the tavern. Leaning against a building, pipe in hand, he quietly puffs. Until Vasily is brought up. "Vasily, eh? He'ssh not a baad sort at all. Sstand up fellow if I've ever had a drink with one." Sylas slurs his words slightly, but his eyes are sharp and searching the growing darkness.
Tamping out his pipe Sylas follows out into the street. "Well, tavern until nightfall then?" he asks the group.
"Gutting people and leaping over buildings once a night for consecutive nights is a pattern." Sylas remarks off the cuff as he puffs on his pipe.
Sylas laughs at the catfolk's comment. "Oh yes no one understands cat-calling better than I, a regular cat summoner I am." he reads the papers briefly before signing in an elegant flowing script. "Calm down there silver spike" he says at the gnome's odd behavior. "I'll be sure to stab you only in the front, which since you always look behind first is ironically your back." "So mission one, fire breathing black skinned gut slicer? Sounds like a delightful fellow."
Sylas walks up to the big house. Kinda pretentious, ain't it? Walking up the steps he scrapes the mud from his boots. Entering the room everyone sees Sylas, an average height tiefling with a muscular build. His black horns covered in paint that makes a flowing white script. They appear to be magic wards of some kind. From under his shirt fine chainlink is visible at the neck and cuffs of his coat which is a rich and well worn in red leather trench coat. His black trousers are stuffed into knee high black leather boots. A bow at his back and two swords at his waist. Nodding his head slightly, he accepts the tea and downs it like a shot, he was cold after all. Sitting in the remaining empty chair he takes out a pipe and starts puffing away, listening to the conversation. "The predjiduce of some guards is of no concern to our super ensamble of moster hunters. Buy 'em a drink and they'll cheer up right quick."
yes, sorry. Should have something up shortly.
Dot for vengance!
I had thought of having Sylas' brother Brenan having hired people working for the darker forces in town to kill their father and take control of his business, possibly using the firm as a front to launder their money or aquire the bizarre things that I imagine evil death cults to need for rituals and such. Sort of like the Wolfram and Hart firm in Angel (if you've seen it) His personal connections would be more along the lines of knowing people who know people kinda thing, just a foot in the seedier areas of life that go on behind the scenes in Korvosa. I'm always open to suggestions though if you have any cool ideas for me to implement.
Backstory: Sylas Porter, a household name in some circles, usually black market and occultist circles albeit, was a Korvosa native.
His father, Helem Porter, had owned a small accounting firm and was generally a well respected member of society. Helem lived with his wife, Arnia and sons Brenan and Sylas in a small house on the outskirts of town. One warm summer evening, brigands came to the house, looking for money, women, pretty much the common fare of what brigands are out and about for. Breaking down the door, they began to torment the tiefling family who were enjoying their dinner, they were only three but still, Helem was not a warrior. Much to his surprise, young Sylas, then ten, slew them all promptly with a kitchen knife. When the town guard showed up to the seen the captain said "That boy was born to end lives." Sylas like the sound of that. A few years later, Helem was killed under suspicious circumstances, some said unnatural. After that, Brenan took over the family accounting business. An eighteen year old Sylas moved into the city and fell in with a crowd of rogues and trouble makers, always up for a fight and down for a drink, he made many friends and continued to hone his fighting skills. At the age of twenty-five, Sylas opened his own business to help his brother support their now ailing mother, he called it Mystic Solutions. Only people who needed his services really understood what it was he did. His shop was in the worst part of town and it didn't scream "Monster Slayer" but he was ok with that. Best not to be too busy in a profession of that sort. Work had surged in the last few months, undead, vampires, ghosts. Sylas wondered what was going on. Lots of buzz from the underground channels he kept an eye on. News from the type of people normal folks avoided suggested something was going on. --Personality--
Bane88's WIP Tiefling Slayer. Still working on a (hopefully) cool background. Also gear and stuff. |