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Fighting name: Bluff


Actual name: Max

Started fighting: Summer of 09'

Starting Realm: Khador

Current Realm: Wolfpack of the High Plains

Unit: Sons of Sylas

Started fighting in 09' at the request of a friend and haven't looked back since. Love this sport and I can't wait to do more for it.

Backstory: (you can skip this if you don't care.. there's alot here)

On the outskirts of the Morrocian border, there was a nomadic tribe that declined and rejected anything outside their own. They lived off the deserts and the Bluffs that served as a natural border between most of the known world and the tribe. Roland Daemon, a child born in the tribe lived with his parents who were outcasts themselves. They had saved the village a few years prior from a strange curse and was allow asylum inside the tribe.

Roland was allowed to learn the teachings of the tribe but wasn't allowed to talk or socialize much with the other children. He broke this rule often but it mostly got the others in trouble. He quickly learned to keep his mouth shut and listen.

When he reached 13, he was noticing that people were disappearing from the tribe, often found days later drained of life in the desert. He was concerned, and tried to talk to his parents, but they had been missing for some time as well. That night would be the last night in his tribe.

The moon was full and the smell of blood permeated the air. The slow rise of chanting filled the air with an eeriness that would make the most fanatic cultists cringe with fear. Roland woke up to the tribe over his bed, their eyes all filled with red. They took him from his bed and dragged him to the top of the bluffs. In unison, the tribesmen said.

"Child, you will no longer be a threat to us. Pray for mercy as the devil will show you none"

The sound of wind blowing past his ears was the last thing he heard before silence and a dark voice saying: 'Do you want to live?' Roland said yes and blacked out.

When he opened his eyes, he was surrounded by noblemen and priests inside a destroyed church. The altar he leaned against was also destroyed and the hot desert air felt like touching the sun itself. The men looked surprised to see movement from him and held swords at his throat.

"Did it fail?"

"No, I can't sense anything from him. He's fine"

"Pugnacious.., forever a fighter"

They pulled their swords away and walked away. Roland put his hands up to his face and noticed the hand of an adult. He passed out after seeing a particular brand that marked them all.

He woke up again to pain shooting through his body. The need for something was plaguing at every inch of skin he had but he couldn't put his finger on it. Standing was taxing, keeping balance was worse and walking was like walking on coals. Everything hurt as if he had never had been in his body. A commotion started outside as people charged in with weapons, ready to attack him.

They all saw a weak and withered man and looked mad.

"Demon! What happened to you"

"I don't know.." Roland whispered.. Talking was tough with him.

There was murmuring all around when one stepped up and threw a rock at him. The pain was intense as the man yelled 'GET OUT OF HERE'. The crowd was getting restless as the warriors tried to hold them back.

Something in Roland's mind told him to get out and leave as soon as possible. He closed his eyes and remembered his village. A dark aura surrounded him and took him to a familiar spot on top of the bluffs he loved as a child.

He sat down, confused how he got there and noticed the camp of the tribe that betrayed him. He searched around and found some vague evidence of what had befallen him. His parents were actually corrupted by demon's and helped the tribe survive a curse they had created. The village elders agreed to their help but didn't know until it was too late that they were demons and their child, was also cursed with a demon born within him.

Roland knew then he was half demon at that point and the black aura was a remnant of its powers. While the voice was gone, he could feel the power slowly creeping up. He pieced together that because of the demon, he had blacked out for atleast a decade and was able to regain control. A flood of memories of the atrocities that he had done come across his head.

He didn't know why or who, but he swore to redeem himself and not let the demon-side take over. He took the name 'Bluff' for an alias for multiple reasons, mostly a double entendre for the bluffs of his home and a lie.

(more will come later, this is a good spot to stop at)

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