Character Backstory

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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Fantasy  |  House: Booksie Classic

Backstory for a possible antagonist in my story. I am trying t create a compelling villain that you can sort of feel bad for while also disliking him completely. Trying to maybe make the reader
think of how easy it could be to take a wrong turn and discover something that you didn't know could be inside. Let me know what you think.

Submitted: October 27, 2017

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Submitted: October 27, 2017



Asher is a man in his mid thirties. A mage that prefers the use of dark and offensive magic to instill fear and pain in those he sees as weaker than he. Considered tall standing at about 6'4", broad shouldered with dark blue eyes and light brown hair that is cut short. Though still relatively young he already shows the signs that most human magic users begin to exhibit from years of spell use. His trimmed beared and short hair have grayness mixed in with the brown. His face already shows various wrinkles and his eyes are a bit sunken in from the many sleepless nights spent studying from the collection of spellboks he as acquired throughout the years.

Though he does enjoy using the dark arts, he wasn't always like this. In fact, Asher once led a relatively normal life before. He once had a family and was an exceptionaly skilled weapons expert. So skilled that he began teaching as a way to proide for his family. He mostly taught the children of high born families, a few times he would assist armies with lessons and even taught royal children on occasion. It was during histime teaching two princes how to master the sword that his life changed.Asher never noticed how disturbed the younger of the brothers was, untill it was too late.

It was the end of summer, as he approached the castle walls that he had spent the last couple of months teaching the boys at. Reaching the gates he was met by a detachment of guards that instructed him that the lord needed to speak with him on an urgent matter. Asher accompanied the guards into the main hall, taking note how the guards kept their hands on their sword hilts. A quick glance above allowed him to see that the upper balcony also lined with soldiers armed with crossbows.Approaching the seat where the lord of the castle normally sat, he saw that seated there was the younger of the two princes. Across his lap lay his father's sword, its naked blade stained crimson.

The young prince told Asher that he greatly appreciated the skills and knowledge he had learned, he then used them to kill his elder brother to ensure that he would be the sole heir to his father's land. When his mother found him standing over the body of his brother, he plunged the blade into her chest. The young prince told Asher he then searched out his father and used his blade to slit his throat. Asher listened in horror as the prince ordered him to remain quiet and un his service as his new captain. Refusing, Asher drew his own sword with such speed, the guards had little time to react before three of their own had already fallen to his blade. Knowing that he could not win this fight, he fled the hall amid a hail of crossbow darts.

Asher made his way back to his estate and found it in ruins. The child lord had guessed Asher wouldn't agree to join him, so he sent a detachment of soldiers before Asher had even arrived at the castle. Entering the smashed doorway to his home, Asher fell to his knees, a cry of despair leapt from his mouth. In the middle of the floor his wife, 8 year old son and 3 year old daughter lay in their own blood. He had never been a man quick to anger, but as he held his family in his arms a blinding rage consumed him.

Feeling as though there was nothing he could do alone, the words to a prayer that he and his wife had taught their son began to form in his mind. It was a prayer meant to calm and give hope. Before the words could escpae his lips though, the anger raged anew, twisting the words from searching for a way to accept what had happened and try to find closure. He only wanted to punish now, he recited this new prayer, cursing the gods of light and hope for not keeping his family sfe. A creeping cold entered the open doorway, forcing a shudder to escape Asher's lips. He opened his eyes to find he was still in darkness, but felt he was not alone. At first, he thought he had been struck blind for his cursing of the gods, yet he could still see the bodies of his family in front of him. Asher's skin crawled as a voice crept into his mind. It was not a friendly voice but it offered to help him see his family again, the voice would help him avenge them. Asher jumped at the chance without a second thought.

In the following months, Asher gratefully learned all he could about black magic and the art of torture from the presence that constantly penetrated his mind. After getting his revenge on the cruel prince, Asher asked the darkness for what was promised. Instead of fullfilling its end, the voice in his mind began to ask more of him. He continued to obey, hoping that he would indeed one day see his family as promised. 

In the ensuing years, Asher realized that he began to enjoy the pain and suffering he inflicted, too late he noticed that he now had no way of breaking the chains he shackled to himself. Though he told himself he had no choice, the truth was that he would rather feel this sick enjoyment than live with the constant emptiness.

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