Daemon champions roamed the land long before the world fell to them, they often worked in secret, quietly, at night, to further the goals of their dark gods and goddesses, the oldest champion among them, the Muerta Rosa as he would come to be known, has existed, veiled in myth, rumor, and fear, for as long as stories have been told, and just before the dark gods came to claim the world, it fell on his hands to silence those that would seek to prevent it, by any means necessary, those souls who would dare to stand against their true masters were fortunate, compared to those who would fall during the war, for the last thing they would see would be the glowing eyes for the Muerta Rosa, and the flash of his blade as it severed their head from their shoulders.

Character © me
Art ©  SolidGrain.Lab