The Twisted Fell by Rhekarid  | TEAM: The Fallen |  | SECTOR: LOWTOWN |  | KIT CLASS: Avatar |
|  |  |  Hall Of Fame! |  Survival - 8 wins! |  Brutal - 1 fatalaties! |
| Fight Record
League Wins: 8
League Losses: 3
Out Of League Wins: 0
Out of League Losses: 1
Total Wins: 8
Total Losses: 4
Rok'hatha: Miasma of Malevolance - Win 17-9
Soundboy Killah - Win 18-7
Tomorrow - Win 14-7
The Reaper - Win 17-5
The Saint - Win 16-7
Forever Lovers - Win 17-11
Renee O'Shea, KCVPD Officer - Win 17-11
Temper, Temper - Win 15-12
Ponce El Gadis - Loss 11-17
Dangerman - Loss 12-18
Luminal - Loss 11-15
Overclock - Loss 18-20
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 | The old ones called to us, and we came. As far as our own old ones remember the strong have always petitioned to the stronger to do their work for them, to either beg for help or to bind them as slaves. In this way were we summoned to build temples or fight enemies or guard treasures. Ages passed, and the creatures who called changed, and so did their goals. They cast for ghouls and minotaurs and elementals, but from the beginning it was always us, because our kind was prone to deception and lies and we changed our shape accordingly. Sometimes the job was done and we went home, and other times the summoner was murdered and eaten. As the generations came and went we developed thoughts and opinions of our own, and we shattered. Some began to lie to themselves and became the races they had once pretended to be, and gave birth to those ghouls and minotaurs and elementals. We were the proto-life meant from the beginning to splinter off and become the faces that fill the void on the other side of truth. Not all of us changed, for we were the Fell who came first, proud of what we were, and we spat upon our softer kin. It was we who drank the blood of our callers, for they had no right to make such demands, while the siblings who changed cried that the other races were lonely in the universe and needed new spirits to share the worlds with. They declared us evil and twisted, and we embraced these names, for they were our enemies now and we wanted only to be what they hated. I myself relished this, and invaded the homes of our wayward brothers and sisters with my own twisted comrades, knocking down the strong and eating their weak, snapping the bones and ripping the flesh of the children who were my children too, stuffing my jaws with their bodies to the point of choking for no other reason than to see the horror on my once-brother's face. "How can you be such monsters," they wailed, and I spat the blood in their eyes and replied "This is what you begged us to be!" For they had lied to themselves to be new, and we became the Twisted Fell when we stayed true to our hate, because truth was not meant to be our nature and it twisted us. But this war is tiresome and will end, for there is a solution. We were the proto-life that other beings looked to for solace and death, and would be so again, when the betrayers were brought back to us. These lesser races, these bastards of whim and lies, we will redeem them with our teeth and claws and make them part of us once more by drinking their flesh as they drink wine. And this too shall I relish, for I am of the Twisted Fell, and when I break my family's bones with the severed heads of the quivering, selfish races they hide amongst, I am what they begged me to be. | Personality: When I speak to my own or my fallen kin or to the bastard races, I speak to them in lies and cruelties because this is what we are. The purpose of others is to trick them into dropping their guard long enough for you to easily disembowel them. For I am what they came from, they are my children, and it is my right and responsibility to pull them open with my bare hands and watch them bleed. What use are they for anything but filling my stomach, when I know that in time they will even dare to summon us for their own purposes? No, it is lies and murder for my children. That is all they asked of us when they splintered and ran away, and that is all I shall give them. |
 | | Strength: | Standard Normal human strength. | Agility: | Weak BELOW normal human agility.
Slow and uncoordinated. | | Body: | Superior Hardy.
Takes punishment like a heavyweight fighter or wrester. | Mind: | Standard Normal human mental resources. |
 | Deception |
We have long been called to the world to fill the needs of the stupid races that were not made from us, because they are weak and useless and cannot do things for themselves. We were the prey that ancient hunters wished for, and let them eat of our bodies before returning home. We were the dragons set to guard hoards, the spirit bears that presided over blessings of land. Those of us who did not take so kindly to being pulled from home and forced into servitude were the gremlins, sirens, and ghostly wolves that turned back with teeth bared. These are the lies we told the world about who and what we were. The roles have not changed now that we turn these lies to each other, and truly they make the hunt more enjoyable. I would have already leapt at the chance to paint myself in the blood of false races, but now that they have the fight to the worlds where we plant our lies, I can crush my old family's skulls with hooves that scatter their teeth like rain before shredding them with scales and horns and swimming in the sweet sea of their death.
 | Devotion |
It was not only the other races that called us. It was also spirits, angels and demons and some things that were older, as old as we were. I do not know why the old ones obeyed their summons, for they died long before I lived. But these higher races were nearly as stupid as the ones that came later, for they thought themselves above us. Even then we lied to them and they did not know what they dealt with, but they thought us dangerous and untrustworthy because we were not them. The angels imprisoned us, and the demons destroyed us, after we had done their tasks. We didn't care. We waited for them to leave, and then rose up to return home. But our fallen children have lied to what they are, and now they can die. Why would they do this? Allowing themselves weak mortal flesh so that they do not stand out. How it anguishes me, to only be able to rend and devour their skin once before they crumple and lie still. But I am still the Fell, the proto-life, and I choose what form my flesh shall take. I do not choose to bear injury.
 | Everlasting Hunger |
- Power: Bio Vampire
- Level:Supreme
- Kit Power Link: Avatar
The sweetness of flesh is such that I would partake of my comrades and children even if their retribution was not a factor. I will catch the arms they raise against me and hear their heartbeat in my throat before I tear away the sinew, I shall dig up their graves and suck the rotten marrow from the bones of their dead before sinking my teeth into the eyes of the living. When we have fully slaughtered and devoured entire races they will be part of us once again, and there will be no more Twisted Fell and bastard children, but only the Fell that we are meant to be. But in the heat of the moment, I cannot care about this. As I drink the sickly bittersweet ichors in the veins of the lower creatures their strength becomes my strength, I feel more alive as they become less so. The first tastes give me the vigor to rip the limbs from my prey so that I may enjoy that they can do nothing but wriggle, bleed, and watch as I eat the rest of their torso off the ground.
 | Superiority |
When the Fell were young, it was an age of simplicity. There was matter and space and power and life, and nothing else. Now the other races try to compensate for their inferiority by building new things into the world, and we will have none of it. The angels that sealed us thought in their stupid arrogance that they could lock us behind spells, crude amalgams of power and space, and we pulled the bars away and left. And now the ones we seek to murder think to save themselves behind false walls of iron and fortitude? They have lied not only to themselves but to their memory, and they no longer know anything of what the Fell are. These things they build are just weak and useless lies, and the Twisted Fell breathe deception. Just as easily as we can hold that breath we can tear away the lies of matter and life, to leave our prey bare for the skewering. Sometimes they do not survive even the cleaning away of their outward shells, but it makes no difference in the end. Whatever is left will be consumed. For the lesser races expect us to hate them, and this hate is what we are honest about, and what twists us. We are the Twisted Fell, and we will continue to hate and eat the wretched living filth that surrounds us, for it is what they summoned us to do.
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