Description from original post (created 2013-07-17 07:52):
Akilos - God of Wrath and Envy
Around the time of The Great Fall of Kings, people had all but forgotten the gods that inhabit the world around them, pulling the strings of life to make sure everything is in order. With a great deal of prosperity over the lands to the west, the east was a brewing pot of rage, cringing at the flourishing neighbor regions.Some time during this era of rage a child was born in the city of Riechara. The child was a monster, born with bones protruding from his skull. Although horrified, his mother felt the longing to keep him as her own, naming him a fitting name in her eyes as Akilos.
Through out his young years Akilos would be bullied for the deformity and lack of father. He was beaten on a regular basis by school mates and shunned by his instructors. During the time of his third year in school his mother came down with a great illness and forced Akilos into a great depression. Around the fifth year of school Akilos got in a feud between a boy a few years older then himself. After so long of the silence something awoke within Akilos, a rage, that he had not felt in the past, with a scream of what seemed like pain he savagely fought back until the older boy hit the ground with a thud beneath his feet.
After the show he had put on at the school yard he ran home to his mother knowing she would be still be sick however always loved to listen to him and things that he had learned. Crying on her bedside he confessed that he had been in a fight and expected to here her soft whispers. All he heard was silence, he felt a deep sadness wash over him, reaching for her hand in the blanket, crying for her to not be upset with him, to talk to him, something to let him know she still loved him. There was no response he stood up and looked at his mothers face, it looked pale and sunk in. He had never seen the face of death but he knew all to well what had happened. He sat with his back up against the wall, silent, not crying, not whimpering, nothing, just sat.
Around the age of thirteen he was alone, he had begun to grow in hatred and lost all sense of human compassion, but he sat, much like his nation, in silence, full of the wrath of all the dead that lie restless in the fields they had fallen. He envied those who had families, and friends, things that he did not have. With this hate grew his horns, as with that, his skin darkened. On becoming fifteen he joined ranks and fought the lands to the West, known only as the samurai of the deathless, he quickly found his place, seeming to never be wounded in battle.
One great battle had set him apart from others however, when he was mortally wounded, destined to die where he was with several punctures to the heart and grievously harmed with cuts covering his flesh, he got up, in a blaze of anger, shedding most of his armor and destroying the rival armies pushing on the attack. He was no man, Akilos was but a god. His anger had consumed his mind; thoughts of revenge and hatred skitted across the planes of his reality. No longer could he control his actions, his power was overwhelming, his old self distant.
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