#demon;

It was a starless night. Diffused light stretched around the fog as it swam serpentine between the gravestones. A guttural yell rose in a crescendo into the air. [although there wasn't a soul around to hear it.] On the other side of the iron fence a hand stretched from the dirt, then another hand. A distorted face was pulled up by sheer force. The dirt fell in loose piles as he rose from the ground. He was a sight unlike anything that graveyard had seen. He emerged from a spirit world that left him deformed. His yelling stretched on for minutes of agony as he pulled at the dirt to unearth himself. His body misshapen and discolored; the shape of a melted blog.

As the sounds of bone crunching began his yells changed from that of effort to eons of torture filled into the droplets of seconds. His body touched the mortal air, ligaments stretched,  bones cracked and broke,  arms lengthened,  skin that bound the legs into one stump- split. Cracked and crunched to form feet where bloody stumps had formed from his one, mermaid like tail splitting into two legs. This demon shaping into a man, Haze, squirmed on the ground. The red and bumpy skin smoothed and turned into a beige brown flesh color.

Then it stopped. Silence. Haze panted in exhaustion saliva dribble from his lips. He eventually decided to sit up. The pain was gone; it was a new sensation, this human body. For he was not a condemned soul that spent any amount of time as human; he was a turned out soul. Leaving heaven as an angel and entering hell as a demon. Then he stood, naked as though he were just born. He ran his hands over himself, arms, thighs, dick. He adjusted his balls for the first time as a man. A demon has no use for nuts in hell. One does not need a dick to populate the underworld.

As he looked around he noted several things; night, iron fence, grave stones, cold, fog. His breath exhaled in visible puffs. Also, a rather new sensation, cold. It wasn't entirely enjoyable he concluded. And though not a man by any stretch of the imagination he was aware enough of humans to know he needed clothes, and that he was in a graveyard where people were buried, with clothes they didn't need. One does not know if a corpse is naked and as such dressing one seems a waste. He chose a grave with a male sounding name and started to dig. At first he was on his knees hefting clumps of cold, hard earth behind him. After several exhausting hours of digging with nothing but his hands he reached an old casket.

When he pulled back the lid Haze eyed the decaying lump of man flesh in his death suit and then looked down at his own body. He made a quick assessment that the man he dug up was much smaller than the man he'd just transformed into. The numerous new experiences he was being exposed to did not prepare him for this disappointment. He did not have it in him to go on a wild grave chase for the perfect outfit. This would have to do until something better came along.

After yanking the man up and pulling off his clothes, the corpse falling to bits as he did so, he dressed himself in his freshly stolen clothes. The buttons of the white dress shirt pulled, the jacket sleeves went just passed his elbows and the pants hit him mid-calf. They tugged on him quite a bit too. The shoes most definitely would not be fitting.

Haze walked out of the graveyard barefoot and in a grave robbed suit three sizes too small.

************** Dear Reader,

What's your reaction to a demon pulling himself out of hell in a graveyard? It's meant to portray the agony of entering the human realm from a demon but also add a twist of light-heartedness, and 'fuckitall'.

“Why should I apologize for the monster I’ve become?”

BÁSICO…

◈ NOME: Damien Blackwood. ◈ DIVINDADE: Devil Boruta, mitologia eslava.  ◈ IDADE QUE APARENTA: 35 anos. ◈ OCUPAÇÃO: Empresário, um dos donos da Blackburn&Blackwood. ◈ FC: Joseph Morgan.

PASSADO…

No folclore eslavo, Boruta era um ser amigável que habitava as florestas da Polônia. Antigamente era um deus da caça e da floresta, porém, com a chegada do cristianismo fora considerado um demônio. Passando a ser chamado de Devil Boruta, decidiu assumir o papel que lhe fora imposto. Deixou a floresta, partiu para a cidade, onde encontrava mortais que estavam dispostos a trocar suas almas por riquezas incontáveis.

PRESENTE…

Nada mudou para demônio ao longo dos anos. A ganancia sempre existiu e continuar a existir. E enquanto os mortais desejarem riquezas, Boruta consegue coletar almas facilmente, mantendo-se muito melhor do que a maioria das divindades mais populares.

Fora invocado por um um humano em Los Angeles, a cidade em que os humanos se dirigiam com grandes sonhos e se deparavam com desilusões ainda maiores. O mortal, como tantos outros, queria vender sua alma em troca de dinheiro. Boruta havia perdido o dom de conceder tal graça, mas viu uma oportunidade ali.

Adotando o nome Damien Blackwood, tornou-se empresário na cidade dos anjos. E, por ironia, se juntou a Lúcifer. Os dois fundaram a Blackburn&Blackwood, uma empresa de gestão de carreira artística bem sucedida, onde cobram as almas de seus clientes com a promessa de torná-los ricos e famosos. 

Damien é confiante, desfila usando os mais finos ternos e proferindo elogios que na maioria das vezes não são verdadeiros. Mas não se engane, ele é um demônio afinal e como tal, possui um lado sombrio que vem à tona da pior forma. Ele é violento, ressentido e odeia ser contrariado. 

Poderes:

↪ Possui a capacidade de ver, controlar e absolver a alma de uma pessoa. É com o poder que sela os contratos de sua empresa. 

↪ Tem a capacidade de manipular as sombras, podendo solidificá-las, transportar-se por meio delas.