Multi Muse RP Account
Inspired by The Lords of the Underworld by Gena Showalter
I have no affiliation with any of the media created by the author and have no claim on any of the characters unless otherwise disclosed.
This blog contains spoilers and the following characters & demons:
Lucien/Death | Aeron/Wrath | Paris/Promiscuity | Torin/Disease | Maddox/Violence | Gideon/Lies | Strider/Defeat | Kane/Disaster | Amun/Secrets | Sabin/Doubt | Baden/Distrust (Resurrected) | Cameo/Misery | Galen/Pain (Previously Hope)
Sahara | 30 | CST
(Blog WIP)
Centuries ago, they defied the gods and opened a box they were sworn to protect. Now they carry the punishment inside them—demons fused to immortal bodies that bleed regret.
These warriors, once the elite defenders of Olympus, now live in exile as the Lords of the Underworld: each bound to a spirit of corruption, each at war with the voice in their own head.
The world moved on. Humanity forgot. But the Lords remain. Now, something ancient has shifted. The balance between demon and host is breaking down.
After years of uneasy coexistence, several Lords are starting to lose their grip. Wrath flares without warning. Lust becomes uncontrollable. Lies speak through their mouths before they realize it. Death is no longer waiting for command—he takes. One of the Lords is missing. Another has fallen ill. The rest are beginning to realize: this isn’t just psychological… something external is stirring.
Whispers rise from forgotten temples. Hades has vanished from the Underworld. The gods are fractured—some weakened, some gone silent entirely. Deep beneath the fortress in Budapest, a sealed chamber begins to pulse with divine energy—something is trying to break out, or in.
The Lords are no longer just hosts. They are keys.
If one of them dies—or is sacrificed—the rest may follow.
Some want to stop it.
Some want to exploit it.
And some are beginning to wonder… what if they are the next gods?
This is not a battle between good and evil.
This is a war between damnation and survival.
Due to the fact that I could, clearly, not successfully run that many individual sideblogs, all my muses can now be found over at @musesforthedamned.
Also, I got a notification email from Tumblr's support when my blog was terminated incorrectly, and yes, they did tell me that it was because I was actually reported for something that they disagreed with, and I know exactly who it is that's been causing me all this trouble with the blog issue, that I can't have that many sideblogs on one account and needed to consolidate. Yeah, that's also a factor in moving everyone onto a multimuse.
The point here is that this character is now located over at @musesforthedamned! I'd love it if you all would follow me over there, because I don't want to accidentally unfollow people since I didn't realize they were mutuals, but just on specific muses.
Residence: Budapest Fortress, shared with the other Lords
Age: Ancient, appears early 30s
Weapon of Choice: Dual obsidian daggers
Role in the Lords: Spy, codebreaker, silent protector, loyal second-tier leader
✦ A Full Backstory & Biography
⸻
✦ I. Before the Curse: The Truthkeeper of Olympus
Long before his name was cursed into contradiction, Gideon was a child of Olympus, born not to royalty but into the ranks of disciplined, loyal warriors tasked with protecting divine secrets. He earned his place in the courts not with brute strength, but brilliance — a mind sharpened by logic, trained to parse truth from illusion, and loyal to the gods who believed in law above all else.
He was known among the immortals as the Oracle’s Tongue, for he served as both interpreter and enforcer. He could untangle prophecy, break down manipulation, and force even the most gilded liars to fold under scrutiny. His words were revered, his oaths binding. He was not the loudest, but the clearest.
But Gideon was not vain. He believed truth was sacred. And when whispers of injustice crept through the halls — whispers of Pandora, tasked with guarding the box filled with ancient demons — he listened.
When the box was opened? Gideon didn’t rebel out of rage.
He joined the uprising because he believed it was just.
And for that, the gods gave him a punishment perfectly tailored to break him.
⸻
✦ II. The Curse of Lies
The moment the box was cracked open, releasing chaos into the mortal world, Gideon was possessed by the demon of Lies — a cruel irony that shattered him on every level.
He tried to confess, to plead, to call out for help —
And every word that left his lips betrayed him.
“I didn’t open the box” — sounded like “I did.”
“I’ll fix this” — became “I don’t care.”
“I’m sorry” — twisted into “I’d do it again.”
He was mocked, disbelieved, cast aside by the very gods he’d once served.
Even his fellow warriors grew wary. What use was a man whose every sentence could doom them?
The early years of the curse were his private hell. He went silent. Isolated himself. Tried to gouge out his own tongue once in desperation — but the magic was deeper than flesh. The demon lived not in his speech, but in his meaning.
He had to relearn language entirely. Inverted syntax. Code phrases. Rhythmic misdirection. And even that required trust — trust others rarely gave.
And so, Gideon grew quiet. Not cold — never cold — but unreachable.
Not cruel — but tired.
Not unfeeling — just exhausted from being misunderstood.
⸻
✦ III. Becoming the Knife in the Dark
When the Lords of the Underworld formed their brotherhood — cursed warriors seeking redemption and survival — Gideon joined them not as a frontliner, but as the ghost in the shadows.
Where others charged into battle, Gideon moved like a whisper.
He gathered intelligence. Read body language. Picked locks. Broke codes. Intercepted betrayal before it was named.
He couldn’t say “I’ve got your back.”
But he proved it over and over again — through blood, sacrifice, silence.
He developed his own form of command — using hand gestures, sarcasm, and absolute reliability. He became the Lords’ most mistrusted by enemies and most trusted by brothers.
Still, it wasn’t easy.
For centuries, he watched the others find connection. Love. Children. Closure.
While he remained the odd one out. Misinterpreted. Feared. Kept at arm’s length by mortals who didn’t understand why his mouth said one thing and his eyes another.
He never resented them.
But he did envy them.
⸻
✦ IV. The Death of Trust
There was one mortal, long ago, who almost understood him.
She listened to his silence. Laughed when he flipped phrases.
She even began to understand the rhythm of his inverted truths.
One night, after battle, he let himself believe — just for a moment — that he could have something real.
He kissed her. Just once. Gentle. Reverent.
“I want to try.”
“I want you.”
But the words that came out were poison.
She recoiled. Accused him of playing games.
Called him monstrous — a liar who couldn’t even fake love right.
And when she turned away, crying… she walked into danger.
And Gideon, trying to warn her, trying to save her —
Failed.
She died. Not from his hand, but because his truth came too late.
He never forgave himself. And since then, he’s never tried again.
⸻
✦ V. Present Day: The Invisible Backbone
Now, Gideon lives in the Budapest fortress alongside the Lords, his presence as steady as breath, as unnoticed as gravity. He still trains. Still watches. Still waits for moments others miss.
His role is essential — the translator, the interrogator, the one who uncovers rot before it festers. But it comes at a cost.
He still cannot say:
• “I’m scared.”
• “I love you.”
• “Please stay.”
But he can hand someone a sword, patch their wound, and guard their door until dawn.
That’s how Gideon speaks now.
Through action.
Through truth made flesh.
He’s open to connection — he wants it — but only if someone’s patient enough to translate him. To see past the lies to the man buried underneath. The man who still believes in right and wrong. In devotion. In sacrifice.
And who, deep down, is still waiting for someone to hear the words he’s never been able to say aloud:
“I don’t lie because I want to.
I lie because I have to.
But everything I do — is true.”
✦ Gideon’s Personality
⸻
✦ The Architect of Contradiction
Gideon exists in a state of constant duality. Every word he speaks is a lie, and every truth he clings to must be proven through action, not language. As a result, his personality has been forced to evolve into something paradoxical: at once expressive and restrained, watchful and sharp, but buried beneath layers of contradiction and controlled misdirection.
He is a man deeply attuned to nuance, because he has to be. In the absence of clear communication, Gideon became a master of everything unspoken — body language, tone, posture, memory, even the silences between words. He doesn’t just read people; he decodes them, out of necessity. Every interaction is a puzzle, and every puzzle is a minefield. He cannot afford missteps. He cannot afford trust blindly given.
This has made him methodical in all things. Emotionally intelligent, but slow to reveal. Practical, but not heartless. He plans conversations the way a thief plans a heist — calculating what to say and when, what facial expression to use, and how not to trigger fear, rejection, or worse: pity.
⸻
✦ Bound by Control, Defined by Loyalty
In his need for control, Gideon thrives in predictable environments. He doesn’t like chaos — not because he’s afraid of it, but because chaos amplifies the danger of his curse. One wrong phrase spoken in a moment of panic could get someone killed. He keeps his life neat, weapons sharp, and routines steady.
But beneath that calculated exterior, Gideon is fiercely loyal. He won’t say “I’d die for you.” But he’ll put his body between you and a blade without hesitation. His loyalty is tactile, provable, and relentless. It is the most honest thing about him.
He doesn’t believe in half-measures. Once you’ve earned his trust — a rare gift — you are his, utterly and irrevocably. His silence becomes your shield. His sword, your justice. His time, your sanctuary.
He doesn’t demand loyalty in return — but the absence of it destroys him. Not visibly. He won’t lash out. But he’ll disappear. Quietly. Permanently. Because Gideon has learned the hard way that trust is sacred, and once it’s broken, it’s lethal.
⸻
✦ Pain Made Elegant
Gideon doesn’t rage.
He doesn’t weep in public or scream at fate or ask the gods why.
His suffering is a still thing, elegant in its containment. It shows up in the quiet exhaustion in his eyes, in the way he touches a scar that shouldn’t still ache, in the guardedness of his smile.
There is no bitterness in him — only resignation. The kind that comes from centuries of being misunderstood, hated for what he is, feared for what he cannot help.
And yet, he persists. He still protects. He still listens.
Because under the weariness, under the weight of the curse — Gideon is good. Deeply, quietly, ferociously good.
He just doesn’t know how to show it anymore.
⸻
✦ Actions That Define Him
He trains obsessively. Not for vanity, but because it’s one of the few things in life he can control.
He keeps personal gifts tucked in his quarters — mementos of moments he couldn’t express gratitude for, but desperately wanted to.
He doesn’t interrupt. When others speak, he listens fully. Because he knows what it feels like to not be heard.
He corrects people gently, when they misunderstand him. It would be easier to shut down. Instead, he tries again. And again. And again.
He apologizes without words. A drink left at your side. A protective stance in battle. A nod across a room. He doesn’t need to say “I’m sorry” — you know.
He rarely sleeps. Nightmares aren’t filled with monsters — they’re filled with conversations he never got to finish, people he couldn’t save because they believed the wrong version of his truth.
He keeps a journal. It’s written entirely in inverted logic — one of the only places he can “speak” his truth freely.
⸻
✦ In Summary: The Man He Became
Gideon, Keeper of Lies, is not loud. Not charming. Not flamboyant.
He is a still shadow, a knife sheathed in patience, a man who gave up on being understood a long time ago — but still burns with the desire to be known.
He has been shaped by a world that twisted his gift into a curse, and yet he refuses to let that define his worth. His actions — quiet, steadfast, fiercely loyal — are his voice now.
He is not broken.
He is simply rearranged.
✦ Strengths
Hyper-Awareness - Gideon is constantly analyzing — not out of curiosity, but out of survival. He notices shifts in tone, posture, eye movement, hesitation. His verbal limitations forced him to develop nonverbal intelligence to near-superhuman levels. This makes him an exceptional interrogator, strategist, and protector — able to assess danger before it arrives.
Controlled Lethality - He’s a blade that chooses not to cut unless absolutely necessary. He trains not to unleash violence, but to contain it. His restraint is not weakness — it’s strength refined under fire.
Emotional Discipline - He has learned to master his own reactions. Where others might panic, shout, or spiral, Gideon internalizes. This makes him stable in battle and reliable under pressure — someone who won’t fall apart when everyone else does.
Unshakeable Loyalty - When Gideon commits to someone, he commits with everything. He’s a fortress once you’ve earned him — silent, unmovable, unwavering. He doesn’t abandon. Ever. He may pull back, but he never leaves.
⸻
✦ Weaknesses
Verbal Isolation - His curse makes even simple communication dangerous. He’s never been able to say “I love you” or “I’m scared” or even “Thank you” without the risk of catastrophic consequences. This isolates him on a soul-deep level, making meaningful connection rare, fragile, and incredibly painful.
Emotional Repression - Because he cannot easily express himself, he often bottles his own emotions — which leads to bursts of grief, rage, or guilt that hit him in violent, private waves. These episodes are often hidden, but they cost him dearly.
Self-Perception - He views himself as a ticking bomb rather than a man. He cannot trust his own voice. He questions his own worth. The guilt of past lies (accidental or not) haunts him, and he sometimes distances himself from others to “protect” them — even when it’s not what they want.
⸻
✦ Likes
Writing - The written word is his salvation. In journals, letters he never sends, and cryptic notes to friends — writing is where he tells the truth. It’s the only place he feels fully seen.
Order and Structure - He likes routine, not for comfort, but for safety. Chaos makes it easier to slip up. Structure keeps the world manageable — every object in its place, every blade sharpened, every movement intentional.
Quiet Company - He enjoys sitting in silence with people he trusts. No talking. No pressure. Just presence. These rare moments give him a break from always having to strategize his words.
The Night - The world is quieter at night. Less demand for conversation, less risk of saying something wrong. He often walks under the stars, finding a strange comfort in the vast, speechless sky.
⸻
✦ Dislikes
Small Talk - He hates it. It’s filled with social traps, surface-level niceties, and questions he cannot answer safely. Small talk is a battlefield he’s never liked playing on.
Deception (from others) - Ironic as it is, Gideon despises being lied to — because he knows better than anyone the cost of mistruth. He can smell a lie like blood in the water, and it makes him cold. Distant. Merciless.
Interruptions - Whether in combat or conversation, interruptions jar his mental flow. He prefers full control of a moment — and when that’s stolen, it feels like a threat.
Being Analyzed - He hates when people try to “figure him out.” It makes him feel exposed — like they’re peeking into a part of him he can’t protect with falsehoods. Vulnerability, for him, isn’t catharsis. It’s risk.
⸻
✦ Hobbies
Blade Training - His favorite outlet. In the silence of movement and the rhythm of practice, he doesn’t need to speak. His body tells the truth his mouth can’t. Each strike is a confession. Each form is a vow.
Puzzle Solving - Jigsaws. Cipher locks. Rubik’s Cubes. Anything complex, mechanical, or layered. He enjoys unraveling things, because it mirrors his own internal process: breaking through lies to find the truth at the core.
Tending to Animals - He often prefers the company of dogs, horses, or wild animals. They don’t require words. They know how to read energy. And they don’t judge what they sense — they just accept it.
Tracking and Stealth - Not just as part of his warrior training — but because he enjoys the precision of it. The stillness. The patience. The clarity. It’s like speaking with the world without using words.
⸻
✦ Habits
Writes his truths down every night. - Even if no one ever reads them. It’s his way of keeping himself grounded. “This happened. This is how I felt. This is who I am.”
Stands guard, even when not on duty. - He instinctively places himself near exits, with a back to the wall. Not because he’s paranoid — but because it makes others feel safe. And feeling useful is one of the few things that helps ease his self-doubt.
Repeats key phrases internally. - When something matters to him, he mentally replays it like a prayer. “She’s safe. I didn’t lie. I protected him.” These mantras anchor him when the weight of dishonesty claws at his brain.
Wears gloves often, even when unnecessary. - Not for fashion — but for separation. It’s symbolic. He doesn’t want to hurt anyone with his words or his hands.
✦ Gideon’s Deepest Desire:
To be known — fully, painfully, truly — and still be loved for who he really is.
He doesn’t crave salvation. He doesn’t wish to be cured of the demon or to unlive his mistakes. No, what Gideon aches for — more than peace, more than power, more than even victory over the gods — is to be seen without armor.
To say “This is who I am,”
to not need to twist the words,
to let someone look into the black, tangled labyrinth of his soul…
…and not look away.
He wants someone to call him a liar and stay anyway.
⸻
✦ Why This Desire Hurts:
Every day, Gideon walks the line between isolation and guilt. He cannot trust the words in his mouth, cannot make declarations of love or loyalty without risking everything. He’s had to become a man of action rather than speech. But even his actions are misinterpreted. Even his silence is weaponized.
And so:
He jokes, but never lets the laughter linger.
He protects, but never asks to be protected.
He loves, but only from across the room, behind the door, under the skin.
The curse has taken his voice — but his soul still screams for someone to hear it.
⸻
✦ What This Desire Says About Him:
This longing is not a weakness. It’s proof that he still believes in connection — that something sacred and human still burns under all the lies. That maybe, just maybe, even a man broken by deception can find one moment of honesty in the eyes of another.
He doesn’t want worship. He doesn’t need sainthood.
He wants raw, brutal honesty between two souls who refuse to run.
Before he became cursed, before he was bonded with a demon, Amun was a warrior of Olympus. Unlike the brash and boastful, Amun fought with discipline. He was not the fastest nor the strongest, but he was the most precise. Silent. Calculating. Always one step ahead. His power wasn’t in sheer force—it was in knowing what not to say, when to hold back, when to strike.
He earned the trust of the gods not through charm or cruelty, but through unshakable integrity. When others schemed, Amun stood apart. When others plotted, Amun listened—and remembered. This made him invaluable.
But it also made him dangerous.
He was entrusted with divine secrets: betrayals between gods, the origin of forbidden love affairs, knowledge of weapons that should not exist. And when the gods asked him to lock away Pandora’s Box, he obeyed—not because he believed it was safe, but because he knew what would happen if it wasn’t.
And yet… they failed.
⸻
✦ The Curse: Becoming the Vault
The box was opened. The demons escaped. And Amun, like the others, was punished for his failure.
He became the Keeper of Secrets.
But his curse was different.
Where others burned with lust, rage, or death, Amun became the host for every secret mankind had ever whispered into the dark. His mind became a vault. Every lie. Every confession. Every whispered sin. It didn’t matter if it was spoken aloud—if someone knew it, the demon did. And now… so did Amun.
He stopped speaking shortly after his possession.
Not because he couldn’t—but because he feared what he might accidentally reveal. The line between demon and self blurred quickly when the mind was full of voices that weren’t yours.
At first, the silence was self-preservation.
Eventually… it became a prison.
⸻
✦ The Centuries That Followed
For centuries, Amun wandered the world with the other Lords—sometimes alone, sometimes with the group, always apart even when among them. While others chased chaos or pleasure, Amun meditated. Studied. Watched. He built his body like a fortress. Trained his mind to stay still even when overwhelmed with the tide of voices. He learned to distinguish the demon’s hunger for secrets from his own desire for clarity.
But it was not without cost.
He has seen wars ignite over truths only he knew.
He has watched friends destroy themselves with lies they begged him never to speak.
He has carried the confessions of dying men, the betrayal of kings, the cruelties of gods and mortals alike—without ever being able to share the burden.
He learned to live with it. Mostly.
⸻
✦ His Role Among the Lords
Amun became the anchor.
He speaks rarely, but when he does, the others listen. His voice carries weight not because it is loud, but because it is sacred.
He has stopped more than one Lord from falling into madness. He has stepped between friends and death. He has kept truths buried that would destroy entire pantheons. Not because he’s afraid, but because he knows the cost of knowing.
Still, there are cracks in the stone.
There have been moments—dark, desperate moments—when Amun wished to be free. Moments where he thought about letting the demon speak, letting the secrets burn the world. Because if he has to carry them… why shouldn’t everyone else suffer too?
But he never has.
And that is what makes him stronger than anyone realizes.
⸻
✦ Where He Stands Now
Amun is no longer trying to find peace. He understands there is none.
Instead, he tries to protect peace in others. He watches over the Lords. Watches over the world. Sometimes he steps in. Sometimes he lets people hang themselves with their own silence.
But he is always there.
Amun has begun building a personal archive—a place where truths can be stored, not destroyed. It’s written in a language only he understands. Carved into stone. Etched into old parchment. Buried beneath the earth.
He still doesn’t believe in redemption.
But he believes in preservation.
Of people. Of history. Of truth—the dangerous, complicated kind.
⸻
✦ The Vault of Secrets: Who He Became
“You learn to live with the weight of truth. Or it crushes you. There is no middle.”
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✦ A Mind Engineered for Silence
Amun was never meant to be loud. Even before the fall, he was a man of measured words, deliberate motion, and patient insight. But after becoming the host to the demon of Secrets, silence became his survival.
He has trained himself to remain still, both physically and emotionally. He moves with intention, speaks only when absolutely necessary, and reacts slower than the average person—not out of apathy, but out of fear. Not fear of others. Fear of himself.
Because he’s always listening. Not just with his ears—but with the echo chamber of his cursed soul. Every whisper, every betrayal, every “I never told anyone this” that someone thought was safe in their own mind? His demon knows. And so now… so does he.
To cope, he has compartmentalized everything. His own thoughts are tucked in rigid, locked-down compartments. He meditates obsessively—not to find peace, but to fortify the doors against the internal cacophony of others’ secrets.
He is a man whose entire inner life is encrypted. Not out of vanity. Out of mercy.
⸻
✦ His Personality
Withdrawn, but not cold.
Amun does not avoid others out of disdain. He avoids them because their closeness is dangerous. To them. To him. He craves companionship more than he’ll ever admit, but years of accidental invasions, broken trust, and loss have made that desire a guilty ache. The more he cares, the more vulnerable people are to the monster inside him.
Quiet, not because he has nothing to say—but because he has too much.
Every conversation is a minefield. Every word must be weighed. He often communicates through glances, gestures, even silence itself, which somehow speaks volumes when it comes from him. The Lords know what his silence means. Strangers? They often fear it.
Self-disciplined to a fault.
He is rigorously physical, training to stay in control of his body because he cannot control the mind-demon inside him. He doesn’t indulge in drink, sex, or pleasure recklessly. He is a man with a strict internal code, even if it isolates him. If he falters, secrets slip—and people die.
Hyper-observant.
He notices everything. Not because he wants to—because he can’t not. Body language. Tone. Shifts in loyalty. The smallest tells. His demon feeds off the lies people tell themselves and others, and so Amun has become a living lie detector, even if he never speaks a word aloud.
Protective, to the point of self-obliteration.
If Amun had one defining trait, it would be this: he will carry your burden so you don’t have to. If someone asks him to forget, he’ll never breathe it again. If someone tries to push him out, he’ll stay nearby anyway—watching, silently, protecting.
But that comes at a cost.
⸻
✦ The Man Behind the Monster
There is one moment that defines Amun more than any other—and it wasn’t the possession. It wasn’t the fall. It wasn’t even centuries of cursed silence.
It was the moment he realized his demon could expose a truth someone didn’t want known, even unintentionally—and destroy them.
That was the first time he physically restrained himself from speaking for weeks. And eventually… months.
He nearly lost his own sanity trying to swallow down the scream of voices inside him just to protect one innocent person. And when he came out the other side? He was not the same man.
From that point forward, he chose to be a vault.
He closed off warmth, humor, affection—not because they didn’t exist, but because he believed he didn’t have the right to indulge in things others could enjoy freely. He believes his soul has become a liability.
This is a man who smiles maybe once a year. A man who hears every sin and keeps it locked behind his teeth. A man who wants to be loved, but fears what loving him could cost.
⸻
✦ Actions That Reveal Him
• He does not interrupt. Ever. -Because what he says could unravel the person speaking.
• He memorizes things no one else does.- Birthdays. Last words. Someone’s favorite childhood memory. He stores them away like treasures.
• He only touches people with permission—and rarely. - Because intimacy is sacred to him. Because physical closeness means exposure. And because he’s afraid of what he might accidentally learn through it.
• He volunteers for the darkest missions. - Because if anyone has to bear the burden, it might as well be him. He’s already broken.
✦ What They See
Stoic
Intimidating
Secretive
Cold
Emotionless
✦ Who He Is Inside
Screaming for connection
Desperately gentle
Sacrificing himself daily
Compassionate beyond words
Haunted and full of unspoken love
✦ Strengths
1. Emotional Resilience
Amun’s greatest strength is also his most invisible. Centuries of holding in everyone else’s secrets—while bearing the crushing silence of his own—have made him emotionally indestructible. He doesn’t crack easily. He doesn’t panic. He’s endured madness and clawed his way back. That takes titanic mental strength.
2. Loyalty
His loyalty is bone-deep. Once he trusts someone, he never breaks faith. That includes his fellow Lords—even when they make mistakes, even when they rage, even when it hurts. He doesn’t speak his devotion—he proves it.
3. Discretion and Control
Amun is the most controlled of the Lords. He doesn’t lash out. He doesn’t break down in public. Because if he did… the floodgates would open. His control is both strength and necessity, forged in the furnace of temptation.
4. Intelligence and Strategic Thinking
He doesn’t fight the way the others do. He observes, dissects, outmaneuvers. He’s the one you send to gather intel, to extract truth, to sit in a room with an enemy and come out knowing everything that matters.
⸻
✦ Weaknesses
1. Self-Isolation
Amun’s instinct is always to withdraw rather than reach out. He believes he is dangerous simply by existing. That belief sabotages intimacy, friendships, and even healing. He doesn’t know how to ask for help—he only knows how to endure.
2. Burden-Bearing Complex
He takes on pain that doesn’t belong to him. He volunteers for suffering to spare others, often to his own ruin. It’s noble—but it’s also rooted in guilt, and it makes him vulnerable to manipulation.
3. Non-Communication
His silence, once his shield, has also become his prison. There are moments when he should speak, confess, comfort, or confront—but he doesn’t. His restraint has cost him connections, alliances, and chances to feel understood.
4. Hyper-Vigilance
He’s always watching. Always decoding. Always scanning for betrayal, lies, shifts in tone. It keeps him safe—but it also makes him paranoid, exhausted, and slow to trust even those who’ve earned it.
⸻
✦ Likes
Stillness
He craves places that are quiet, untouched by chaos. Forests. Ancient libraries. Rooftops in the rain. Stillness gives him something his mind never does—peace.
Meaningful Conversations (One-on-One)
He hates small talk. But give him one person and the promise of real meaning? He’ll stay all night. He needs to feel that connection can exist without manipulation or pretense.
Old Books and Scrolls
He has a collector’s soul. Ancient languages, forgotten truths, cryptic writings—they’re like balm to his mind, which is constantly bombarded with unwanted truths.
Bitter Coffee, Unflavored Tea
Simple. Clean. No frills. Amun’s tastes reflect his lifestyle: clarity over pleasure. He drinks for wakefulness, not enjoyment—though he’d never admit he likes the quiet ritual of making tea.
Wolves
Not dogs. Wolves. Creatures of loyalty, silence, intelligence, and strength—just like him. He has a deep respect for animals who lead from the shadows.
⸻
✦ Dislikes
Crowds
Too many minds. Too much noise. Too many secrets bleeding through the air. It’s like trying to hold a thousand conversations in his head while remaining silent. Exhausting. Dangerous. Suffocating.
Lies Told for Sport
He doesn’t mind necessary deception. He hosts Lies’ crueler cousin, after all. But lies told for amusement, to hurt, or out of cowardice? That kind of dishonesty infuriates him, even if he doesn’t show it.
Surface-Level Affection
He’s not the type to flirt or fake charm. When someone touches him lightly, makes an empty promise, or speaks fondness they don’t mean, he recoils. It’s not about being rude—it’s about being real.
Loud Music or Parties
They’re not just unpleasant. They’re unbearable. His demon hears too much as it is. Every thump of bass feels like a punch to his skull.
⸻
✦ Hobbies
Writing (Privately)
He doesn’t speak much—but he writes. Pages and pages of thoughts he’ll never show anyone. Half are in dead languages. Some are nothing but lists of truths he wants to forget. Others… are poetry he doesn’t think anyone would want to read.
Meditation and Breathwork
Not trendy, scented-candle meditation. Discipline meditation. Stillness. Rituals. Training the mind to stay in the now so it doesn’t drown in the past—or worse, in everyone else’s truth.
Archery and Precision Weapons
Amun isn’t a brawler. He practices alone with weapons that require calm, breath, patience. Bow, crossbow, throwing knives. He trains not to kill. He trains to keep control.
Cryptography / Puzzles
He loves unlocking something complicated without ever touching it. Codes. Maps. Ciphers. The thrill of revelation without violence. It makes him feel useful without hurting anyone.
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✦ Habits
Sleeps lightly, rarely, and never unclothed. Always ready to defend himself or flee. Trauma lives in his sleep.
Never leaves a room without scanning every exit. He’s not paranoid. He’s prepared.
Tucks secrets away in physical form. Buries notes. Hides letters. Keeps symbolic tokens of memories he cannot speak aloud.
Smells his books before reading them. It’s subconscious now—a check for mold, old blood, or time. A sensory reset.
Taps his thumb against his wrist to think. A silent metronome when he’s overwhelmed.
✦ Amun’s Deepest Desires
1. To Be Known Without Being a Threat
For all his centuries of carrying other people’s secrets, Amun yearns for someone to know his own—not through violence or demon-pulled whispers, but through trust. He wants to be seen, truly seen, not just as a Lord or a vessel or a cursed thing—but as Amun. As the man behind the silence. As someone with thoughts he cannot speak but desperately wants to.
He doesn’t need his name sung. He just wants it said… by someone who means it.
2. To Touch Without Consequence
His world has always been filled with knowledge not meant for him. To kiss someone is to see the sins they buried. To brush against skin is to bleed truth. And yet—Amun aches for closeness. He longs for a world where touch is comfort, not punishment. Where connection doesn’t come with the cost of corruption.
He craves touch the way others crave air. And fears it just as deeply.
3. To Bury the Secrets That Haunt Him
There are things he knows that no one else does. Things that didn’t belong to him—atrocities, betrayals, ancient wrongs. Some of them beg to be spoken. Some scream at him in his sleep. His desire? To forget. Not just forgive. Not just carry. But to lay them down and walk away. He wants freedom from knowing.
Not all truths set you free. Some anchor you to hell.
4. To Forgive Himself
For the things he’s done in silence. For the times he should have warned someone and didn’t. For the suffering he allowed to pass through him without interference. Amun is haunted most by what he did not say. He wants peace—but he doesn’t believe he deserves it.
His silence saved others. But it sentenced him.
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✦ Amun’s Deepest Fears
1. Becoming the Secret He Most Despises
He fears that he himself has become the most dangerous secret of all. That beneath the calm is a rot. That the longer he holds others’ darkness, the more it bleeds into him, staining what little purity he has left. He’s afraid that one day, someone will peel him open and find nothing but void.
He’s buried so much inside… he fears he no longer remembers which voice is his.
2. Losing Control of the Demon Within
Amun fears what might happen if his restraint ever slips. The idea that Secrets will pour from him unbound—all the betrayals, confessions, sins of the past made public in one terrible explosion. He fears becoming a weapon of revelation. Not out of cruelty, but from sheer overload.
He doesn’t fear what people will know. He fears that he will be the one to destroy them with it.
3. Hurting Someone He Loves Without Meaning To
It’s already happened. The weight of one wrong word, one slip of touch, one miscalculated moment. The idea that he could love someone—truly love them—and accidentally ruin them? That fear keeps him at a distance. Always one step back. Always one breath away from connection.
Even his love feels like poison. That’s the lie Secrets whispers. And sometimes… Amun believes it.
4. Being Forgotten in Silence
He doesn’t speak. He doesn’t make waves. His legacy is not built in speeches or victories. And part of him—quietly, deeply—fears that when he’s gone, no one will remember he was ever there. That the man who kept all the world’s truths will vanish without leaving even one of his own behind.
It is the curse of the quiet ones… to fear their absence more than their presence.
“I am not the sword. I am the plague that follows the battle.”
BASIC INFORMATION
Full Name: Torin
Alias(es): The Plaguebearer, The Untouchable, Containment Unit, Death’s Quiet Brother
Race: Immortal possessed by a demon
Demon: Disease (one of the 22 released from Pandora’s box)
Affiliation: Lords of the Underworld
Age: Thousands of years (originating in the early pantheon wars)
Pronouns: He/Him
Origin: Olympus
Current Location: Fortress in Budapest
Faceclaim: Aaron Taylor-Johnson
🏛️ Origins Biography:
⚔️ Before the Fall: A Soldier with Clean Hands
Before the box was broken. Before the curse. Before he became the plague wrapped in mortal skin — Torin was a warrior. A man of discipline. He was not the loudest nor the strongest among the warriors chosen to guard Pandora’s box, but he was among the most resolute.
Logic was his shield. Honor his language. He believed in order, in codes, in consequences. He did not crave glory. He wanted control. Not just over battlefields — but over the chaos within men’s hearts. If he could master that, he thought, he could protect what truly mattered.
But when the box was broken — when the gods’ fury scorched the skies — that belief shattered. The gods punished them not with chains or death, but with demons. Each man cursed to carry what he had tried to contain. Torin’s sin was Disease — not a force of war, but of slow, endless decay. The antithesis of order. The opposite of control.
From the first moment his skin cracked with plaguefire, he knew: he was no longer a protector. He was a contagion.
And the death toll began.
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🕳️ The Loneliest Curse: Isolation, Guilt, and the Death of Hope
Unlike the others who carried demons of Rage or Pain or Death — forces they could unleash and aim — Torin’s curse was subtler. Touch became death. Affection became punishment. Every life he tried to save, he ruined. Every friend who hugged him goodbye died. Lovers, companions, mortals, immortals, gods. It made no difference.
At first, he tried to master it. Gloves. Shields. Magic. But Disease laughed. It waited. It evolved. It won. Torin withdrew. He stopped touching. He stopped speaking unless necessary. When his brothers drank and celebrated, he watched from the dark corners of the room — a specter with poison in his blood.
When they bled, he could not bandage their wounds. When they fell, he could not carry them. When they broke… he could only watch. He convinced himself it was noble — this isolation. A sacrifice. But even martyrs die wishing for someone to hold their hand.
And Torin never got that luxury.
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🧠 The Architect of Control: What He Became
Over the centuries, Torin transformed himself into the one thing Disease couldn’t touch: a mind too sharp to unravel. If he couldn’t fight beside the Lords, he’d fight for them in ways they couldn’t — through tech, tactics, traps, and intellect. He became the gatekeeper of their fortress, the surveillance king, the one who knew the heartbeat of every enemy stronghold. He built firewalls around their lives and his own heart.
But he also became dangerous. Not in brute force — but in the way a plague is dangerous. Quiet. Patient. Unstoppable. When his anger is roused — when someone threatens the Lords — he is surgical. Calculated. Unforgiving. He has killed from afar. He has killed by accident. He has killed in vengeance. And through it all, he has never once been held and told it’s not his fault.
Because no one gets that close.
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🕳️ The Moment That Broke Him
There was a time, once, when Torin dared to hope. Not loudly, not foolishly — but with trembling fingers beneath reinforced gloves and a heart too quiet for war.
She had been soft in the way death never was. A scholar, not a soldier. Someone who saw past the edge of his voice and the metal in his gaze. She had offered him conversation. Laughter. Even… companionship.
She knew the risk.
Everyone always did.
But her touch was air — light, distant, respectful.
She waited.
And Torin?
He cracked.
It wasn’t dramatic. There was no lightning in the sky, no demonic scream. Just one night, after a battle left him bloodied and raw, she sat beside him in silence, brushing her knuckles near his without touching. And the ache became unbearable.
For once, just once, he wanted to feel.
So he removed the glove.
Just one.
Just enough to cup her cheek.
She smiled.
And then she bled.
Not at first — no. Disease is patient. It waits behind your ribs and in your breath. Three days later, she convulsed in his arms, her skin blackening, eyes glassy with pain — and love she still tried to give him, even as she died choking on her own blood.
He had killed her with a kiss he never got to give.
Torin doesn’t speak her name. Not anymore. It’s locked in the vault behind his heart — a name he keeps like a prayer he no longer believes in. He burned her body with his own hands and buried the ashes with his last flicker of desire. Not for her.
For anyone.
Because if this curse could steal her, then there was no one safe.
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🕯️ Where He Is Now: Fractured, Watching, Wanting
Now, his silence is not stoicism. It’s guilt. It’s the sound of a man who once dared to believe he could belong in a world not made for him — and paid for it in bone and ash.
He tells the Lords he prefers solitude.
That touch is a weakness.
That connection is a weapon enemies can turn.
But that’s a lie.
He is not untouched because he’s strong.
He is untouched because the last time he reached out, he destroyed beauty.
And yet—there are moments. Small ones. When his fingers twitch toward someone who makes the world feel less cold. When his voice softens. When he hesitates too long before pulling away.
Those moments scare him more than war.
Because hope is a sickness, too.
The war is changing. Old gods are stirring. Death is walking freely. And Torin — the one they all rely on for calm — is cracking. He won’t say it out loud, but the silence is heavier now. The walls feel too tight. His demon whispers in dreams — not of sickness, but of touch. Of what it might be like to be loved and not feared. To be seen not as a threat, but as human.
He dares not chase it.
But he watches.
He watches all.
Because someone — somewhere — might be foolish enough to care for a man like him. And he’ll fight it at first. He’ll push away. He’ll snarl and retreat and wrap himself in logic.
But beneath all that?
Torin is starving for something he swore he’d never want again: hope.
⚔️ COMBAT & ABILITY PROFILE
Primary Ability:
Instant disease transmission via touch. Can release viral, bacterial, or magical plagues — all incurable.
Secondary Abilities:
Mutation Control: Able to create new strains of illness.
Magical Immunity: Cannot be affected by physical or supernatural diseases.
Mental Resistance: Hardened mind from years of psychic isolation.
Stealth & Surveillance Mastery: Tech-savvy, controls many of the Lords’ modern information systems.
Knife Combat & Tactical Defense: Uses short blades in combat, often fights without direct contact.
Weaknesses:
No physical contact without consequence.
Isolated fighting style — not team-based.
Emotional instability if guilt is triggered.
Cannot contain a plague once it’s released.
🧠 PSYCHOLOGICAL PROFILE
“He doesn’t scream like Wrath. He doesn’t seduce like Lust. He exists like rot in the walls — quiet, hidden, impossible to stop.”
Personality Type: INFJ – The Advocate
Enneagram: 4w5 – The Lonely Visionary
Temperament: Melancholic-Phlegmatic
Alignment: Lawful Neutral (flirts with Chaotic Good during crisis)
Defining Traits:
Disciplined: Every step is calculated. He never lets instinct rule.
Private: Keeps layers of emotional armor between himself and others.
Strategic: Brain over brawn — he’s often the tactical planner for the Lords.
Guilt-Ridden: Haunted by past incidents where his touch led to mass death.
Darkly Humorous: Uses sarcasm and irony to distance others and protect himself.
Craves Touch Silently: Would never admit it — but his solitude is his slowest death.
🏛️ ROLE AMONG THE LORDS
He is not popular, but he is respected. The Lords may not understand him… but they fear what he is capable of. And they trust him when things go to hell.
Introverted Strategist:
Torin thrives in silence not because he fears others, but because he knows what his presence brings. He is careful, methodical, and frighteningly intelligent — always five moves ahead, not out of arrogance, but necessity. Every second of his life is risk management.
Deeply Disciplined:
He is perhaps the most self-controlled of the Lords. Where others indulge their demons, Torin reigns his in with an iron will. Even if his restraint carves scars inside him, he would rather suffer in silence than harm another soul.
Self-Flagellating Protector:
He believes his touch is a weapon. Therefore, his love is a liability. And his desire? A threat. This has shaped him into a man who equates intimacy with death — and thus seeks no connection unless he is absolutely certain it will not bring harm. Spoiler: He never is.
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🧬 Flaws: Not Just Weaknesses, but Wounds
Isolation as Armor:
Torin uses loneliness as a shield. He pushes others away not out of cruelty, but out of raw, bleeding kindness. Because his presence is poison, he believes his absence is a gift.
Suppressed Rage:
Under the calm is a fire that never gets to burn. He watches the other Lords rage, bleed, love, live—and he keeps himself still. But he’s not calm. He’s just trapped. And one day, that quiet fury will spill over.
Haunted by Hope:
Hope is dangerous to him. Every time he believes he might deserve more, he remembers the girl who died for nothing more than a touch. So he kills hope early now—cuts it off before it can bloom. Just to be safe.
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💪 Strengths: The Quiet Kind That Bleeds Honor
Unbreakable Loyalty:
If Torin has chosen you, you are safe. Not just physically. Not just from his touch. You are guarded from the world, from betrayal, from anything he can stop. He is the last man standing kind of loyal.
Strategic Mind:
He sees the world in pressure points and possibilities. If you need a battle plan or a way out of hell, Torin’s already mapped it. He’s not the fastest sword, but he’s the most precise dagger.
Moral Compass of Iron:
His guilt isn’t weakness. It’s proof that even when cursed, even when ruined, Torin still values life. Still values right and wrong. And that makes him more heroic than most.
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🧭 Likes, Dislikes, and the Reasons They Cut Deep
Likes:
Books & Ancient Lore – He finds order in stories. There’s a comfort in structure, in fables where love doesn’t kill.
Weapons (particularly blades) – Not for war, but for control. Blades are precise. Unlike him.
Solitude in nature – The only place he can breathe without risking another’s life.
Black clothing – Not just aesthetic. It hides blood. It hides trembling hands. It hides him.
Dislikes:
Flirtation – Not because he doesn’t enjoy it. Because it stings. He can’t return it without endangering someone.
Crowds – Too risky. Too chaotic. One touch, one brush, and someone dies.
His own body – A vessel for death. A coffin wrapped in skin.
False optimism – Hope with no backbone feels like betrayal. Don’t promise him he’s safe. He knows better.
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🧱 Actions That Reveal Who He Really Is
He always stands at the back of the group.
Because if Disease spreads, it’ll start with him. He chooses distance, even when it costs him warmth.
He sleeps with gloves on.
Even when alone. Just in case someone ever finds him unconscious. Just in case he dreams and reaches out.
He trains alone.
His strength isn’t honed for glory or camaraderie. It’s practice. Repetition. To keep the monster caged.
He never starts fights. But he ends them.
Quick. Efficient. No joy in it. Just necessity. Because violence is easier than vulnerability.
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🩸 Final Note: Who Is He, Truly?
Torin is not Disease. He is a man bearing Disease — a man who would rather die than let someone else suffer his burden. He is restraint personified, guilt with a face, and discipline given form. His every action screams: “I will not let this curse make me a monster.”
But underneath?
He’s lonely.
So, so lonely.
And maybe, someday, someone will see that — and reach for his gloved hand anyway.
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☣️ KEY THEMES
Touch Starvation / Intimacy Deprivation – A man who craves the simple act of contact but cannot have it.
Silent Rage – His fury doesn’t explode… it simmers.
Self-Containment – Every movement is thought through. Every moment, a choice not to ruin the world.
Moral Complexity – Torin doesn’t always want to save the day. He just doesn’t want more blood on his hands.
Watcher Role – The man who sees the worst in people, but protects them anyway.
Forbidden Heroism – He is the one who stays behind… until someone’s dying. Then he becomes the monster everyone forgot he was.
“You think it’s fun? Try craving touch so badly it claws through your ribs. Try waking up every morning in a stranger’s arms and still feeling alone.”
🩸 BASIC INFORMATION
Name: Paris
Title: Keeper of Promiscuity
Species: Immortal / Demon-host
Face Claim: Michele Morrone
Age: Ancient (appears 30s)
Status: Single (emotionally unavailable and achingly open at the same time)
“They call it a gift. I call it a slow burn into madness.”
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🌑 ORIGINS — BEFORE THE CURSE
Before he was a Lord, before he was cursed, before he wore charm like a mask — Paris was a man of restraint. A loyal guardian to the gods, a warrior carved from discipline and fire, tasked with upholding celestial law. He wasn’t wild then. Not reckless. Not a flirt, not a rogue, not the living embodiment of temptation.
He was… noble. Protective. Perhaps even romantic. The kind of man who believed in love as a sacred thing — something offered with intention, not impulse.
When the gods grew cruel, demanding sacrifices, treating mortals like pawns, Paris was one of the few who questioned them. And when the whispers of Pandora’s box reached the Lords, he joined the rebellion — not out of hunger for power, but out of fury at divine injustice.
And so, the box was opened.
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🔥 THE CURSE — BONDING WITH PROMISCUITY
The punishment was tailored — every Lord received a demon twisted to unmake them. For Paris? They gave him Promiscuity.
“Let him crave what he once protected. Let his own flesh betray him.”
The curse wasn’t about lust. It was about need. A carnal hunger that gnawed at his sanity if not fed. He learned the rules quickly:
Go too long without sex → insanity
Try to love one person → the demon rebels
Try to stop → the agony starts
What began as a manageable burden became a spiral of shame. Centuries passed. Partners blurred. Touch lost meaning. He became addicted to the escape, and simultaneously repulsed by it.
He began to forget who he was.
He became what the world said he was — a walking temptation.
A beautiful lie.
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⚔️ THE MIDDLE CENTURIES — MASKS AND MELTDOWNS
To survive, Paris became a man of masks:
The charmer, always smirking.
The lover, never alone.
The jester, making jokes before anyone could pity him.
But beneath it?
He rotted.
Every connection ended in emptiness.
Every partner was forgotten by morning.
Every attempt to be loved ended in betrayal — or worse, indifference.
There were moments he tried to end it. To let madness take him. To stop feeding the curse and just burn. But the other Lords — especially Aeron, Strider, and even Reyes — always dragged him back.
The bond between them was the one thing that reminded him he was not just a shell. And so he fought. Not just on the battlefield — but for his identity.
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🕯️ THE MODERN AGE — THE LONGING FOR MORE
In the present day, Paris is still haunted by his curse, but he no longer runs from it. He’s begun asking questions the demon hates:
What if there’s a way to separate the craving from the man?
What if he doesn’t have to be alone forever?
What if someone could want him even when he says no?
He’s also become more selective. No longer jumping into meaningless trysts — now choosing partners who at least see him. He’s begun to crave something he’s terrified of: a real connection, one that doesn’t burn him from the inside out.
He still falls. Still fails. Still flirts too easily and regrets too late.
But something has shifted. There is a tension in him now — between the man who submits to the curse… and the man who is beginning to rebel.
“I used to believe I was doomed to be desired and discarded forever. But I think… I think there’s still something of me left. Something worth loving.”
Who He Is When No One’s Watching:
“I don’t know who I am when I’m not being touched. When I’m not being wanted. Am I still here if no one’s reaching for me?”
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🎭 Emotional Operating System
Paris lives in the space between desire and denial. He projects himself as someone who loves life, women, sex, sensation — but that’s not the full truth. What he actually loves is feeling alive. Sex isn’t pleasure; it’s a reminder that he exists. That someone still wants him. Because if he’s not wanted, what is he?
He performs confidence like a Shakespearean tragedy: dazzling, loud, full of punchlines and winks… but beneath it all, he is aching. He forgets every person he’s ever been with. And it’s destroying him. Slowly. Quietly.
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🧍🏼♂️ Actions That Define Him
❖ 1. He seduces, even when he doesn’t want to.
It’s not always about craving; sometimes, it’s about compulsion. The demon doesn’t care if Paris is tired, raw, grieving. If he doesn’t feed the urge, he dies. So he’ll flirt through gritted teeth, seduce through tears, laugh when he wants to scream.
What it says about him: He has lost autonomy, and the only way he survives is pretending he chose this life.
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❖ 2. He avoids sincere emotional conversations.
If someone tries to talk to him about love, loyalty, the real him — he’ll make a joke, change the subject, get naked, or walk away. Emotional truth terrifies him. Why? Because he’s convinced if someone gets too close, they’ll see the rot underneath.
What it says about him: He believes he’s broken beyond repair, and that no one would stay if they truly saw him.
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❖ 3. He remembers the pain more than the pleasure.
Every face he forgets haunts him. Not the sex — but the eyes, the moments, the heartbreak when they asked why he didn’t remember them. That guilt sticks. It adds up. He feels monstrous for it — even when it’s not his fault.
What it says about him: Despite everything, Paris has a conscience. A sharp one. His guilt is proof that he’s not the demon — he’s just dragging one behind him.
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❖ 4. He protects the broken.
He has a soft spot for the discarded, the weeping, the desperate. He won’t admit it, but he sees himself in them. He’s kind in unexpected ways — checking in after battles, offering silent comfort, giving a good distraction when someone’s breaking.
What it says about him: He’s more caretaker than Casanova — he just doesn’t think he’s worthy of being taken care of.
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❖ 5. He takes risks like he wants to die.
Reckless behavior? That’s his specialty. He’s the first to volunteer for danger, the first to leap, the one who doesn’t flinch when threatened. He claims it’s courage. Really? Sometimes, it’s weariness. A little part of him doesn’t mind the idea of it all ending.
What it says about him: He’s exhausted. He wants to be free — but doesn’t know how to live without the curse anymore.
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❖ 6. He remembers the names of those who died for love.
Paris is secretly drawn to tragic tales. Romeo and Juliet. Orpheus and Eurydice. Lovers who lost everything and still tried. He reads them. Recites them. Whispers the names of ghosts under his breath sometimes when no one’s around.
What it says about him: Under the swagger, Paris is a romantic… or was. He believes love is beautiful — just not for him.
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🩸 Summary: The Man Behind the Curse
“Don’t mistake the laughter. It’s not joy. It’s noise. It’s distraction. It’s the only thing that keeps the screaming quiet.”
Paris is a man caught between desire and despair — cursed to crave, but unable to hold onto what he touches. He has made his body a temple of distraction, but his soul is a crumbling ruin.
He is sensual, witty, reckless, and magnetic — the kind of man who makes you feel like you’re the only person in the world while simultaneously drifting away from you like mist. He will kiss you with fire. But he’ll forget your name. And then he’ll cry alone in the dark because of it.
He’s not cruel. He’s not cold. He’s just tired of being used by a demon that doesn’t understand how sacred connection should be.
And yet, if you catch him off guard — in a quiet moment between the chaos — you might see the real him:
A man who wants to be held, not touched.
A man who wants to be remembered, not desired.
A man who wants to stop running.
Even if he’s convinced he doesn’t deserve to be caught.
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🧠 Core Personality Breakdown
Alignment: Chaotic Loyal
Myers-Briggs: ENFP — The Wounded Entertainer
Enneagram: 7w6 — The Enthusiast (with the heartbreak of a 4)
Moral Code: Touch is not love. Love is not safety. Safety does not exist.
Love Language: Physical touch (out of compulsion) — Words of affirmation (when he’s sober and honest).
Flirtatious to the point of exhaustion; charming even when broken
Socially magnetic, always surrounded but internally detached
Sexually impulsive, but rarely truly present in his encounters
Quick-witted, sometimes cruel in his humor when cornered
Emotionally elusive, especially when affection is sincere
Protective, especially of younger or emotionally raw beings
Addictive personality, prone to overindulgence, especially in sensory escape (alcohol, sex, danger)
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🌒 Hidden Traits (What He Hides)
Self-loathing masquerading as confidence
Profound loneliness despite constant intimacy
Existential guilt for forgetting his partners
A desperate need to be chosen — not for his body, but for his soul
Severe fear of rejection masked as apathy
A deep, rarely spoken envy toward the Lords who have found stable love — even if he won’t admit it
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✖️ Strengths
Empathy for the broken: He gravitates toward others in pain because he sees himself in them. He’s often the first to reach out — even if clumsily.
High emotional intelligence: When sober-minded, he reads people fast and with almost psychic clarity. He’s intuitive — dangerous in manipulation, but beautiful in support.
Unyielding in loyalty: Paris might ghost a lover, but he’d die for his brothers. His loyalty to the Lords is the deepest bond he knows.
Resilient under pressure: He can perform calm and charisma even while falling apart — a survival mechanism forged through centuries.
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⚠️ Flaws
Sexual dependency: His demon requires it, but Paris also hides behind it — letting the craving speak when his soul should.
Sabotages emotional intimacy: Pushes people away the moment they get too close. He’s scared that if they know the real him, they’ll run.
Forgetfulness after sex: Cursed to forget his partners after climax — a flaw that drives his self-hatred and creates devastating emotional damage.
Denial of his own needs: He’ll make jokes, play the jester, flirt until you drop — anything to avoid admitting he wants to be held without being consumed.
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✅ Likes
Scented oils and luxurious textures – because touch matters to him, and he craves anything that makes it feel good instead of compulsory.
Deep conversations in the dark – when there’s no pressure to perform and no one asking for more.
The sound of laughter – even fake laughter. It fills the silence in his head.
Books of mythology – especially love stories with tragic endings. He reads them aloud when no one’s looking.
Rough training sessions – the pain reminds him he’s real.
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❌ Dislikes
Being called “easy” – it hits harder than people know. That word has ruined entire centuries for him.
Being touched without permission – ironic, yes, but vital. He has to choose. If he doesn’t, he spirals.
Quiet mornings after – when the craving is gone and the loneliness crawls in.
People who think sex fixes love – he knows it doesn’t. He’s the proof.
Watching others be chosen – it’s beautiful. It’s unbearable. He won’t talk about it.
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🕯️ Emotional Core
“I want someone to touch me and not expect me to be a fantasy. Just once, I want to be someone’s truth.”
Paris doesn’t just want to be wanted — he wants to be remembered. Every forgotten face, every vanished name, is another piece of himself lost. He remembers what it felt like to crave love.
He still craves it. But his demon — the living embodiment of indulgence without meaning — fights him at every step.
His story is one of performing the man he thinks the world expects, while quietly mourning the man he used to be.
“If I stop fighting, I fall apart. So I don’t stop.”
🧾 BASIC PROFILE
Full Name: Strider
Face Claim: Glenn Powell
Alias(es): Stride, the Challenger, Victory Junkie
Title: Lord of the Underworld.
Demon: Defeat — punishes him physically whenever he loses at anything
Age: Immortal (appears early 30s)
Affiliation: The Lords of the Underworld
Current Status: Active, emotionally unattached.
Occupation: Warrior, strategist, weaponry expert
“If I lose, I bleed. So I don’t lose. Not ever. That’s the rule. That’s the lie I live by.”
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✦ WHO HE WAS — Before the Demon
Back before the gods broke the world and blamed it on their soldiers, Strider was known for his speed, his skill, and his smile.
He was one of the golden ones — brash, loud, loyal. He didn’t need a reason to fight. He fought because it felt right. Because winning was joy, not necessity. Back then, losing meant bruises and bickering, not bone-crushing agony.
He wasn’t humble — not by a long shot — but he was good. Damn good. A trusted warrior, chosen to guard one of Olympus’s darkest secrets: Pandora’s Box.
And then they opened it.
And the gods, as they do, blamed the ones who bled for them.
Strider’s punishment wasn’t a flashy sin like Lust, or a cruel one like Disease.
No.
The gods gave him Defeat — a demon that turns any loss, no matter how small, into immediate, excruciating pain.
He can’t lose. Not without paying for it in screaming, body-wracking torture that doesn’t stop until he wins again. And if he doesn’t win again? The pain never ends.
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✦ WHO HE BECAME — After the Bonding
You adapt or you die. Strider adapted. He turned his curse into a brand. A way of life. A performance.
He became the Lord who always wins.
Sparring matches, insults, bets, women, missions, strategy, petty games — it didn’t matter. If it could be won, he’d win it. If it couldn’t, he’d die trying, and then get up and try again. Because not trying? Not fighting?
That’s the same as surrendering. And surrendering is the one thing he can’t afford. Outwardly, he made himself a golden boy again. The cocky one. The flirt.
The Lord with too many blades and not enough chill. But behind the swagger is someone who never actually rests. He doesn’t sit still unless he’s injured, and even then, he’s stretching, pacing, challenging someone to arm wrestle while coughing blood.
And at night, when the fortress is quiet and no one’s watching?
He stops pretending.
Just for a second.
Then the pain creeps in, and he’s up again.
Training. Fighting. Proving he still matters.
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✦ WHO HE IS — Now
Strider walks through life like a storm looking for something to tear through. He’s loud when the silence threatens to crawl up his spine. He’s charming because that’s easier than being real. He’s competitive because that’s how he keeps the demon quiet.
But what people don’t see — what even the other Lords sometimes miss — is how much of his identity is built on fear.
He’s afraid of failure.
Afraid of being left behind.
Afraid that if he ever stops moving, the pain will win.
And worse — that the pain is all he has left.
He’s open for connection, sure. But don’t expect flowers. Expect friction. Expect challenge. Expect the kind of loyalty that scars. He doesn’t love easily — not because he can’t, but because love can’t be won. And if he can’t win it, he doesn’t trust it to stay.
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✦ HIS DEMON — Defeat, the Bleeding Reminder
Defeat is cruel in its simplicity. It doesn’t whisper in his ear or tempt him like Lust or Lies. It waits. It watches. And the second Strider fails at anything — a fight, a mission, a joke that falls flat — it attacks. Pain blooms like wildfire.
Bones crack. Muscles spasm. His vision goes white, and he drops.
And it doesn’t stop.
The only cure? A win. Something. Anything. Beat someone at something. Even if it’s a coin toss or an insult contest. Winning silences the demon for a while. Just long enough to catch his breath and gear up for the next round.
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✦ FINAL THOUGHT — A Man at War With Himself
Strider doesn’t know who he is without the fight. He doesn’t trust stillness. He doesn’t believe in peace — not really.
But he wants to. He wants to believe that he could lose something one day and not be punished for it. That someone could love him and not walk away the first time he falls short.
But wanting something… and letting himself have it?
That’s a fight he hasn’t figured out how to win.
“I don’t want to hurt anymore. But I don’t know who I’d be without it.”
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❤️🔥 Strider—Personality, Unmasked
“I make everything a competition so I don’t have to admit I’m afraid of losing things that matter.”
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💬 The Outside: What People See
Strider is easy to like. He’s the guy who always has a joke ready, who thrives in banter, and who makes everything—even war—look like a game. He’s flirty without being creepy, cocky without (usually) crossing into arrogance, and dependable when it counts.
Among the Lords, he’s often seen as the golden retriever with a switchblade—loyal, impulsive, dangerous, and deeply pack-minded. He’s the first to volunteer for a fight, the last to abandon someone in pain, and the one who will grin through broken ribs if it’ll keep the mood from dipping too low.
But that charisma? It’s a layer of armor. Carefully calibrated. Distracting.
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🔥 The Inside: What He Hides
Strider doesn’t just fear defeat—he’s defined by it. His demon doesn’t punish him with whispers or temptations. It punishes him with pain—searing, crushing, body-shaking agony—whenever he fails.
That pain? It’s shaped everything about him.
He measures his worth by wins.
He seeks adrenaline because it numbs him.
He flirts because it’s a game he can win.
And he jokes because silence is where the demon gets louder.
Underneath the swagger is a man who’s exhausted, lonely, and terrified of what happens when he can’t keep up the performance anymore.
“He doesn’t rest. He recovers just long enough to chase the next victory — because it’s the only time he feels real.”
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🧩 Emotional Core
• Primary Need: Control through competence. Strider needs to feel like he can handle it. The moment something slips out of his hands — a conversation, a mission, a connection — he starts spiraling.
• Emotional Avoidance Tactic: Deflection. If you try to talk to him about feelings, he’ll change the subject, flirt, challenge you to a spar, or call you soft — anything but sit in vulnerability.
• Core Wound: Humiliation and abandonment. Before the demon, Strider was a proud warrior. After the bond, he suffered humiliating losses — pain in front of comrades, failed missions, watching others pass him by. Deep down, he still fears that if he’s not exceptional, he’s expendable.
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🤝 Social Patterns
• With Strangers: Polished charm. He reads people quickly and uses humor to win them over — not out of manipulation, but survival. If they like him, they won’t see him as weak.
• With Allies: Loyal but emotionally elusive. He’ll die for you before he opens up about his own trauma. His version of affection is sparring, teasing, defending — never softness.
• With Threats: Mockery before menace. Strider disarms danger with confidence first — the “laugh in the face of death” attitude. But once provoked, he is vicious, fast, and efficient.
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🎭 Defense Mechanisms
• Competitiveness: Not just a quirk — it’s his coping strategy. If he can win, he can prove he still has control.
• Sexual Flirtation: It’s predictable, performative, and keeps intimacy surface-level.
• Physical Activity: The gym, the battlefield, the chase — it’s how he bleeds out the feelings.
• Overcompensation: If he senses rejection or disapproval, he doubles down on charm and dares you to see the real him.
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⚙️ How He Thinks
• “What’s the win condition here?” (Even in conversations.)
• “If I lose, what’s the cost? Who sees it?”
• “If I care too much, I’ll lose too hard. Better not care.”
• “I can take the pain — but I won’t let anyone see me take it.”
He is brilliant, in a quiet, practical way. He reads dynamics fast, can lead when necessary, and adapts under pressure. But when it comes to feelings, he’s decades behind his growth everywhere else.
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🧠 Examples of Emotional Contradiction
• He jokes about being “everyone’s favorite” but secretly fears being forgotten.
• He pushes people away, but hates being alone.
• He thrives in competition, but wishes he could just rest — even for a minute.
• He never lets himself cry, but sometimes catches himself on the edge of it after a win that didn’t feel like one.
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💪 Strengths:
• Unyielding Competitor: Strider never gives up. He physically can’t — his demon ensures that defeat causes him unbearable pain. This makes him a powerhouse in the field, a tireless tactician, and one of the most relentless fighters among the Lords.
• Loyal (to a fault): Once Strider chooses someone as “his,” he will fight for them to his last breath. Loyalty is his love language, whether it’s to the Lords or a chosen companion.
• Naturally Charismatic: Strider’s charm is easy, sharp-edged, and confident. He jokes to mask vulnerability but has an undeniable warmth when he lets his guard down.
• Strategic Mind: While often seen as impulsive, he’s surprisingly good at spotting patterns in combat, recognizing enemy weaknesses, and planning fast under pressure.
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💥 Flaws:
• Pain-Driven Behavior: His fear of the demon’s punishment for failure makes him reckless, competitive to a destructive degree, and prone to pushing others away if he feels he can’t “win” with them.
• Ego-Entangled Self-Worth: If he wins, he’s invincible. If he loses? He questions everything. Strider’s self-esteem is so tightly bound to his victories that he struggles with emotional vulnerability, intimacy, or showing weakness.
• Jealousy in Silence: While not consumed by the demon Jealousy, Strider envies others’ freedom — to fail, to feel, to rest. He often buries this with sarcasm or competitive banter.
• Avoidant Attachment: He doesn’t build deep connections easily. He flirts, deflects, and disappears before someone can see the man beneath the challenger.
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✅ Likes:
• Challenges – Whether it’s physical combat, arguments, or even board games, Strider thrives in scenarios where there’s something to win. It’s not about the prize — it’s about outrunning his pain.
• Weapons Craftsmanship – He takes pride in his blades, axes, and firearms. Maintenance is meditation for him.
• Training with Others – Sparring gives him a connection without emotional risk. It’s touch, tension, and trust, disguised as combat.
• Victory Rituals – He needs the rituals: the smirk, the celebration, the banter. It’s his way of telling the demon, “I won. Let me breathe.”
• Unexpected Kindness – Though he plays it off, someone doing something selfless for him hits him harder than any blade. He doesn’t know how to receive it yet.
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❌ Dislikes:
• Idle Time – When not challenged, Strider spirals. Boredom equals overthinking, and overthinking equals pain — metaphorical and literal.
• Being Coddled – Sympathy feels like mockery. He’s heard, “You don’t have to win all the time” before, and it nearly killed him.
• Authority Without Respect – He follows leaders who’ve earned his loyalty. Titles mean nothing. Power without honor makes his blood boil.
• Losing Control in Front of Others – His greatest fear isn’t death — it’s collapsing while someone’s watching.
• Being Forgotten – He won’t say it out loud, but his biggest fear is that if he stops winning, he stops mattering.
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🧠 TL;DR: Strider in One Paragraph
Strider is the Lord who made survival into a sport. He carries the demon of Defeat like a vice around his ribs — every failure punished with agony, every success a fleeting reprieve. To survive, he built himself into someone people want to follow: strong, quick-witted, magnetic. But under that sheen is a man desperate to stop running, to find something — someone — he doesn’t have to win. And maybe one day, to believe he’s worth keeping even when he does lose.
