Name: Dracos Nightweaver
Archetype: Scrapper
Primary: Dark Melee
Secondary: Dark Armor
So how does a Vampiric Knight become a super hero you might ask? For that matter how did I become a Vampiric Knight, a weaver of the night magic, the energy of the Netherworld? I could start with my first life, one that seems to have been ages ago. But no, while that life is important, for it shaped who I became, it isn't really the origin of my powers and my becoming Dracos Nightweaver. All I will say about my past is that I was once human, a lost soul who attempted to follow the Pagan Way.
I do not recall how old I was when the accident occurred. I never have been able to learn the truth about what happened but then I am not even sure if I could. It was a freak train of accidents that caused a chain reaction of events. It first began in an alternative universe, one in which super heroes existed, and a city called Paragon City. There existed an organization of villains, called the Circle of Thorns, vile sorcerers and wizards who used the dark arts to further their own malevolent ends. It was on the night of a new moon that they performed a rare and dangerous ritual to summon a Nether Lord, one of the most powerful of the ancient entities of the Netherverse.
I must digress here for a moment to explain. The Nether, as it was called, was the realm of negative energy (as opposed to the positive version), the underworld that lost souls traveled on their way to their final destination. It was integrated and touched upon all planes of existence. It was the dark matter that helped to hold the Universe together. Many thought of it as evil, but like most places it is a place of neutrality, filled with both good and bad. While it did lean towards a darker aspect it was one that was required for existence.
Deep in the Nether, the Nether Lord felt the first binding of the spell, and he laughed as he prepare to break it off, and send a backlash to their spell that would destroy them all for their hubris. Yet his spell failed and he felt the binding becoming stronger. Reaching out with his senses he saw why, they had found an ancient artifact of great power, one that belonged to an Elder God. He realized it could indeed bind him. Still he was a Nether Lord and not without resources so he began to look for a weakness in the spell being cast, anything that he could twist to escape. Then he found it, the artifact did not require him specifically, it was aimed at controlling any of the greater entities of the Nether. It was the spell of the Thorn Wizards that was targeted as his true name. He might be able to fool the wizards spell but he would still need to satisfy the artifacts binding. His powers becoming more restricted he began to search ... but of course the other Nether entities had sensed the spell and were giving him a wide berth. It was then he noticed a soul, one lost and not of this plane ... perhaps ...
I do not know when I had died, at least I had assumed I must have. I was formless, floating in darkness, although not total darkness. I could sense rivers of energy all around me, lights that sparkled like distant stars, and large dark masses that I could somehow sense. Yet I knew I had died and my soul was ... somewhere. I could only assume my mind was trying to make sense out of a reality I could not comprehend, basing it on my own expectations and personal beliefs. At least it was peaceful. I seemed to float for an eternity ... but I had no sense of any real time. I drifted in and out of awareness until it happened. I felt another mind, or what I had to assume was a mind as it felt totally alien to me, probing me. I felt a force grab a hold of my consciousness, pulling me rapidly towards something.
Thus it was that I met the Nether Lord, one of the rulers of the Netherworld. While fearsome in appearance I sensed on radiant sense of evil, or good, from him. In a mix of words, thought, images, emotion and he transferred what was happening to me, and offered me a deal. He said he did not have the authority to stop me from reaching my eventual destination on my way through the underworld of the Nether, although I noted he also refrained from mentioning what that final destination actually would be. However he could offer me an alternative choice. I could replace him in the spell that was summoning him. To make it effective he would transfer sliver of his being (his soul if it could be called that) into me, transforming me into a creature of the Nether just enough to confuse the spell being cast.
Of course my first thought was why would I want to do that only to become a slave to the Wizards. He indicated the spell would not properly bind me since I was not its true target. He would imbue me with all of his remaining energy, energy that would explode out of me when I crossed over into Paragon City, destroying the wizards. In return I would become his avatar, able to cross back and forth between the Nether and other worlds, and able to weave the energy of the nether at my will.
All of this occurred at the speed of thought. There was no deception that I could tell since both our minds were open, our souls touching on some otherworldly level, which I knew was the only way this entity could carry out his plan. I still don't know why I agreed. Perhaps I was being misled, or guided to do it. I just knew it felt right.
With the bargain sealed the Nether Lord, who I began to refer to as Acheron, wasted no time. We merged, briefly, almost becoming one, as he transferred the barest sliver of his essence into me, merging it with my own soul. It was strong but small enough it did not overwhelm me. Instead I gained knowledge, insight, and some deep transformation of the mind and soul that helped me understand the working of the Nether and a deeper understanding of true reality. Then with a rush his power poured into me and I lost consciousness.
When I came to I was no longer in the Nether. I was in a building of sorts, around me were the decimated bodies of what I could only assume were the remains of the Thorn Wizards. Apparently the plan had worked, although the energy had been to much for my feeble mind to manage and I had blacked out. I felt incredibly weak and exhausted. Yet exhilarated as I knew I had form again, an actual body. I could feel, just out of touch, the world of the Nether and knew when I had rested I could call on its power. Overtime I felt I could master it, becoming more powerful and able to use it more fully.
As I stood, breathing hard, I heard a shout, someone yelling for help. Looking around I saw a corridor an the shouting was coming from there. Walking somewhat unsteadily I headed down the corridor. I doubted it was one of the wizards, clearly the backlash of Acherons spell had wiped everyone involved with the spell out. More likely it was one of their victims. Indeed, as I went around the corner I entered a large open room to find a scared and angry man tied to what looked like some sacrificial altar. Probably some part of the ritual I assumed. After questioning him briefly I set about freeing him, cutting him free of the ropes that bound him. As I did I could not help but notice he was not only naked but extremely well defined and muscular. I felt my interest perk and was happy to note that even though I was a partial creature of the Netherworld that I apparently still had all the right equipment, and desires, of a human.
I discovered his name was Brock, and that he was called The Nightwatchman, and was an agent of M.A.G.I. (Modern Arcane Guild of Investigation), sent to find out what the Circle of Thorn was planning. Even though he was a superhero in this world the magic of the Circle had been enough to dampen his natural abilities and overwhelm him. He had found the Circle had been using the blood of heroes to power their spell. Luckily both the Circle, and the artifact, had been destroyed.
At this point my tale is almost done. Having no where to go Brock took me under his wing, taking me home and teaching me about this world. I joined M.A.G.I. as one of their agents as well, partnered with Brock whose powers worked best at night, much like my own. As fate would have it (or perhaps some other power) I found Brock also shared my desires and we became partners in more than just our duties to M.A.G.I.
I also discovered my body was not fully human either, although I was pleased that Acheron had saw fit to provide me with an impressive and handsome body, muscular and well formed. Still it was clear to all I was not fully human. My skin was tinged with the Nether energies, giving it a pale gray color. On my chest Acheron had branded me as his servant, the symbol of Anarchy. My ears had a definite vampiric cast to them, perhaps Acheron had pulled that from my own internal fascination with Vampires. For I also had their fangs and traditional midnight black hair.
Acheron soon contacted me, once he had rebuilt the strength to do so. He asked that I spend some time on this world seeking out and destroying all the Thorn Circles and making sure no more artifacts remained. It was considered corruption of the highest order what the Thorn Wizards were doing with the Nether energies. As Acherons new Avatar it was my mission to protect the Nether.
All that remained was my "custom", as Brock pointed out all heroes needed a costume. For whatever reason I felt clothes confining, especially on my chest. For some reason the symbol of Acheron was attuned to my powers and when it was covered it took more effort to summon forth my dark energies. I was also a scrapper, a fighter focused on speed and quick powerful blows. Any type of clothing restricted my movement. Since I seemed to not be bothered by extremes of hot or cold I decided to go shirtless. For pants I choose tight fitting but stretchable leather, enchanted with numerous spells to make them durable and strong. I did the same with boots, going with steel shod biker boots that added extra damage in my melee fighting. Around my waist I wore a police belt that held various magical tools and instruments used in my duties as a member of M.A.G.I.
And, thus it was that Dracos Nightweaver was born. A Vampiric Knight of the Netherworld, Avatar of Acheron and protector of lost souls.
